Switched
by bookluver111
Summary: Would the story end the same if America was the Princess and Maxon was the contestant? Is their love strong enough? Read to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**AMERICA'S POV**

The stars shine against the dark sky of the night. They give off the last light of the day, the most beautiful.

I pull my tiara off of my unruly auburn curls, praying that no one comes up here. There was no rule that I had to wear the tiara all the time but every time I took it off I got weird looks from everybody in the palace, especially my parents. I could guess that if they had it their way, I would wear the dumb thing to bed.

I set the tiara down beside me on the ledge and ran my fingers through my hair. It was soft and shiny and fell down my back in curls. The color of my hair was a problem though. It was a fiery red color that could stand out anywhere and I was often told I have a temper because of my red hair. There was no denying the temper but I doubt it is from the hair color. I guess it's in my genes. The genes that don't belong to my parents the genes that belong to a couple of strangers.

My mother, the Queen, was unable to give birth. I know she tried and tried even though she was told it wasn't possible, she wanted to make it possible. But when she reached the end of her twenties it was inevitable. She finally accepted the giving birth to her own child was not her reality. So she turned to surrogacy. She found a woman, a Five woman, and approached her. My mother then asked the woman if she would give her her child. It didn't matter the gender or what it looked like, just that she needed a child and would pay a big sum for it. The woman agreed, needing more money for her other two children. And then a year later I was born as Princess America of Illea. My parents weren't fans of the name but the woman who'd given birth to me, apparently, said that I was a fighter, like the country, and that America would be a fitting name.

I don't know the woman at all but I like to think she was a lovely woman, you'd have to be to let one of your children go. I know she had red hair, just like me, and that my mother adored her. I know my mother talks to the woman sometimes.

I chuckle a bit and pick the tiara back up and place it back onto my head. Time to go down there, to the report where 5 men will be announced.

Where I will hear the name of my future husband.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I shush my siblings as we turn on the tv. It's friday which means one thing: The Report. Normally I would be unfazed and spend the hour that it is on up in my room looking back over the photos I've taken or reading a book but today is different. Today could be the day my life is changed. Today could be the day I get chosen to compete in The Selection

 _TWO WEEKS AGO_

 _Kriss jumps up beside me, poking a tongue at my camera lens. I chuckle at her childishness._

 _"Come on. Kriss, it's only a photo," I tease. She scowls at me, snatching at my camera._

 _"Yeah but I don't like getting my picture taken," she argues, turning the camera to face me. She clicks a photo, the corners of my mouth lifting slightly."Plus I thought you were taking pictures of the scenery," she says, gesturing with her free hand to the gardens. I reach out for my camera back but she clicks another photo._

 _"Kriss give it back," I say. She holds it out of my reach. She looks beautiful with that playful smile on her face and her light blonde hair falling over her face. I admire her for a second. She seems to notice and her cheeks bloom red. I smirk and take her distraction to grab_ at _the camera. I feel something slip_ out of _my back pants pocket but assume that it's just some film or a prop._

 _I hold my camera close to my face as I look at the photos. In the photos of her, Kriss looks shy, vulnerable. The light hits her face perfectly, bringing out the gold flecks in her brown eyes. I smile down at the photo. Her lips are pursed but a smile escapes them still and her eyes hold a kind of playfulness that's hard to capture on camera._

 _I'm about to move to the next photo when I hear Kriss' voice ring out._

 _"'To the_ Screave _household,'" she reads. I tense, knowing what she's reading. "'At the recent birthday of our lovely Princess America, we will be holding a Selection. Per the recent census, it has been discovered that you have a son in between the ages of 16 and 21. That makes them eligible to participate. If they wish, they can send their application to the closest town center. They will then be drawn to participate." Kriss looks up at me, tears pooling in her eyes. I rush_ forward _capture her in my arms. She sobs against my chest._

 _"I didn't even know she was coming of age," Kriss sobs. I make soothing sounds to try and calm her down. She fits well against my chest. She's a perfect match for me, just as out parents always say. I run my hand over her hair. She pushes me back and a part of me feels rejected but a secret other part feels relieved._

 _Nothing Kriss and I have, I believe, has gotten past the point of friendship and maybe some what-ifs. I've always had a minor crush on her but I wouldn't call it love or even lust. I didn't like her that way. I liked that she was reliable and a great person. A great friend. But a part of me also wanted more. Some days I would stare at her lips and wonder what my lips would feel like against hers. Is that love? Is it desire?_

 _"You weren't going to tell me," she accuses softly. She steps back. I open my mouth to say something but close it again. I wasn't planning on telling her. She'd rip out my eyeballs if she found out I was considering putting in an application. "Why?" she asks. She sounds helpless; she looks helpless. I sigh and put my hands on her shoulders._

 _"You have a strong opinion of where I belong and_ when, _" I explain slowly. She barely let me go to the market without her approval, she would never let me leave Columbia. "You would never give me the room to think about my options." Kriss makes a sound. I look down at my battered shoes._

 _"You're considering it," she says with disgust thick in her voice. She is suddenly in front of my pulling my chin up so I'm looking her in the eyes. "You're considering entering, throwing away everything we have." Her_ thumb nail _digs into my chin but I don't say anything. I try to hold her stern gaze, try to not look like a coward._

 _"I have to do it," I say lamely. She wouldn't understand why. She'd think my reasoning was stupid. She was a Three after all._

 _"Why? Is someone forcing you?" she_ asks, _panic now in her voice. I shake my head slowly and explain._

 _"Being a Five is all I have." I run my fingers through my blonde hair. People often thought we were siblings, Kriss and I. We both have blonde hair and brown eyes and we're almost always together. I would think we were twins too if I didn't know better. "I will never be anything else. I will always be a photographer, always living on the verge of starvation. My wife and children will be starving and I will have to watch their miserable faces. I can't be anything else. Sure, I could be a singer or painter, maybe even put my piano playing to the test, but I will always be a Five. Nothing else." I pause and take a breath. I shake my head and smile sadly. "I don't belong here. I am meant to be something more than a photographer from Columbia. I am meant to do things." Tears stream down Kriss' face. I want to hold her in my arms again, tell her it's going to be okay but she needs to hear this. "I have to see what happens. I can't just let an opportunity like this. I want to take a chance. If something happens it does and if it doesn't that's fine too. I just can't live with the fact that I could've." I stop there. Kriss stares at me for_ a minutes _longer in silence._

 _"Well I hope that when you have to stay here and get married to a boring girl from Columbia, I'm not here to see you fall apart," she says. "Because right here, right now, I've warned you. This is my goodbye despite what happens. I don't know this Maxon_ Screave _you've become." Then she walks away. Her back straight and hair swinging behind her._

 _And I don't rush after her and beg her to rethink anything. I don't tell her I'll change my mind or anything. I watch as she walks away from me, for good. I watch as my closest friend leave me behind._

I shake my head and focus on the screen as it turns on. My siblings sit behind me, Lisa and Leslie argueing up a storm and baby John screaming his head off. I sigh and turn the volume up. My mother sits, passed out on the couch and my father is in the kitchen, probably drinking himself into oblivion.

I tell them to be quiet one more time as Gavril Fadaye appears on the screen. Queen Amberly, King Clarkson and Princess America sit in the stands behind him. America looks nervous, rubbing her sweating hands against her green dress. The dress isn't the nicest and doesn't suit her but her dress color doesn't matter. She bites her lip furiously and moves her hands up to twirl her red locks furiously. She's beautiful, there's no denying that, but it isn't a secret that she has a fiery temper and gets furiously angry when people speak to her about her surrogacy birth. The whole surrogacy situation isn't spoken about much, or at least the truth isn't. Rumors say that the King got sick of his wife and had an affair with the woman who gave birth to the Princess. Now whenever she's asked about it she says rude things or puts her fingers over the cameras. She's also been known to yell or just plain argue with anyone. The footage is frightening sometimes but nothing about her outbursts has been reported in over two years. Hopefully she's changed.

"Tonight people of Illea," Gavril starts, "Is a very important Report." He grins from eye to eye. His suit is a dark blue today. It almost matches the Princess' eyes. I smile at the thought that I picked that up. "Tonight 35 men will be chosen to participate in the Princess' Selection." His voice booms as he says it and in the background, barely visible, the Princess flinches at the volume of his voice. I fight the urge to laugh at her very un-proper behaviour. She must be nervous.

"Any words?" Gavril asks the royals. The King and Queen shake their heads but the Princess just stares intently at the floor.

Names start getting called but I can't focus Gavril's words because I'm glued to the Princess's face, her reaction. At each name her face pales more, and her hands begin to shake at the 24th name. I feel sorry for her. Maybe she's not the tempermental brat I grew up getting told about. No one else seems to notice her silent breakdown and I can't notice anything else.

Well until Caesar calls out my name and my photo pops up onto the screen. My blonde hair tossed over my forehead, my brown eyes, my smile. Leslie jumps on my back and Lisa screams. I can even hear baby John clapping in the back. My eyes travel to America who stares at the screen absently. Her hands no longer shake and she doesn't look as broken as before. But somehow the vacant expression she holds is worse than her silent breakdown.

Vacant means she's already broken.

My face broke her.

 **Hey guys. How'd you like it? I loved writing it.  
So a few things that you will notice are weird/different. **

**-I will be switching POV's between Maxon and America sometimes in the same chapter. I know but I like doing that sorry. At least I am telling you I will be switching. I read a book once and you had to assume. It was hard. But then again it was in 3rd person so it was still easier.**

 **-Maxon's last name is still Screave! I know wow. His parents are America's 'parents' yet he has the same last name. That is because I have changed the Royal last name to Williams. DA DA! (Jazz hands). I cannot change Maxon's last name. He cannot be anyone but Maxon Screave so his last name stays even though his family changes.**

 **-America my dear, is a surrogate baby?! I know! It's different but I still wanted her to be a singer at heart. I can't take away that part of her so yeah. She is a surrogate baby!**

 **Don't forget to comment, favorite and follow this story so you know when a new chapter is coming. This is just a casual fun work so for now I won't have a specific update day. Maybe once I get more readers. So yeah.**

 **HAPPY READING!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AMERICA'S POV**

I try to walk silently down the hallway, away from the studio, but my hells clank on the marble flooring. I flinch each time I hear an unnecessarily loud laugh coming from behind me or a screech of a chair. I move as quickly as possible, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. I make my way up the winding stairs to my bedroom on the third floor.

At the door I slowly open it to not make any sound and slip inside. Once inside I fling off the tiny heels and begin pulling the thousands of pins from my hair. A red curtain falls over my face as the hairstyle comes undone. I probably should be down there with my parents, celebrating the reveal of all of the handsome boys that I'll get to choose from. I tear up just thinking about them.

I don't want to have to attempt to seduce 35 different men. I don't want to have to memorize their names, likes, dislikes and values. I don't want to embarrass them in front of the whole country. Heck, I don't even want to be a princess.

I sigh and fall onto my large bed, face down. I wonder what they will think of the supposed 'tempermental' princess. The one with the hair to match her attitude. I scream into the sheets, the sound muffled by the blankets.

I come up for air, my vision blurred for a quick second before putting my head back down and punching the bed.

I stay like that for another five minutes before composing myself and standing back up. I strip of the ugly, olive green dress I was forced to wear and throw it into the corner of the room, standing in just my underwear.

I run my fingers through the tangles of my hair and walk into my bathroom. It is spotlessly white and tidy. My hands itch to throw around the shampoos and soaps but I restrain myself and just throw the makeup products in the bin. Call me spoiled but I want to be myself. The me no one ever sees, the me not even my parents know.

I pull my underwear off and run myself a bath. Usually a maid would do this but I'm not expected back in my room until at least 8pm and it's only six. I step into the warm water and sink in. The water ripples around my body, the clear water showing off all of my body. I desperately want to cover myself up but I don't. I need to be able to accept myself, body and all.

Despite what I tell myself, I'm jumping out of the bath less than a minute later, scrambling around for a towel so I can cover myself up.

I walk back into the main part of my bedroom in the towel before walking straight to the walk in robe. I sift through my clothes to find a nightdress and find a silky, baby blue, one that falls just above the knee. A bit revealing than my usual bed attire but I can't be bothered to find anything else.

I quickly slip the night dress on and walk back out to be greeted by my head maid, Linette.

"Princess," she says gleefully. She always appears to be unnaturally happy, never seems to be frustrated or upset. Her dark blonde hair is pulled into a bun at the back of her head, so tight it makes her face look like stretched putty. Her thin lips are stretched into a smile and her eyebrows are as high as the sky.

I give her a weak smile in response before moving to the small bookshelf to search for something to read. I run my fingers lightly over the spines, my eyes scanning each one.

I pick out a yellow spine and sit down on my chaise lounge to read it. I lift my legs up so I'm more laying than sitting and open the book.

I'm ten pages in when Linette calls me.

"Your Highness," she calls, sounding concerned. I sigh and put the book down. I put my legs on the ground but don't stand. Linette walks out of the bathroom with a shocked expression on her face. "What happened to your makeup products?" She sounds horrified, like I'd murdered someone rather than threw reusable things in the trash. I shrug and reopen the book. Let her think what she wants. She may be made of silicoln and plastic but I will not be. I will be made of stone and bricks. I will be strong where she is not.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I begin packing my things a day before I'm expected to leave. Throughout the week between the announcement and today, I've had a million visitors. People coming in to prep me and to tell me the guidlines, to read the terms and conditions. Everytime another knock sounds on the door I tell myself that Kriss was right. I don't want this, I won't get what I initially thought. And then I'll be crawling back, being the Five I'll always be. Except I'll be a Three. A Three while my family will remain Fives. A Three who won't have photography to turn to. I'll probably end up becoming a therapist or a lawyer with a 9-5 job. Always working on something or another, never being there for the family I may one day have. Putting my poor wife through hell because I'll be mad or stressed.

What was I thinking?

I wanted to be more but is more really what I want if I have to give away everything to get it? If I have to give up my future, everything I've ever known?

Give up my friends? Give up Kriss?

I growl in frustration as I throw my camera case into the small backpack. My fingers curl into fists in an attempt to harness the anger I know so well. The anger that my father passed down to me, the anger that marks my back.

I zip the bag up and throw it into the corner of my tiny room. Soon my bed will be stripped and my things put into boxes. Even if I lose this competition I know my parents won't keep me here. My father definitely wants me gone, says it's a pain to have a son that makes money from simply pressing a button. That I could be more useful if I took music or painting more seriously. Always expecting more of the eldest son. The one who was meant to do things. Am I doing something now, Dad?

I fight the urge to scream as I throw myself onto my bed and tell myself that I made the right decision. I will do something with my life.

I wake the next morning to a house bustling with excitement. Leslie and Lisa are running around in their matching dresses gushing about how I'll be a prince which would make them Princesses, baby John is screaming for his morning milk and my parents are running around the house trying to cater for everyone. Before walking out into the chaos that I can see from my doorway, I throw on the shirt and pants we're required to wear for this 'important event'.

"Lisa, Leslie," I call, searching around for the bustling twins. They come running straight too me with white tooth grins. I smile at their enthusiasm even if it is at the worst mistake I've ever made. I hold up the flower I've been given to wear somewhere. It's Columbia's flower, a daisy. The petals were dyed black making the bright flower look dark, evil. I examined it before Leslie ripped the poor plant out of my hands.

"Stick in his pocket," Lisa suggested, pointing to the breast pocket on the left side of my coat. I had the coat slung lazily over one arm, not ready to put it on yet. It would be a fair distance to get to Angeles from here by the jet they'd organized for me to be transported in.

I told the twins I'd put it in the pocket when I put the jacket on causeing them to pout but they left anyway to continue with whatever it was they were doing before I called for them.

I did I sweep around my room, looking around for anything I might of missed.

"Maxon," my mother calls wearily, "it's time." I curse under my breath. I reach over for my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. In a few hours I will be the monarch's property, I will be the Princess' property.

I walk out of my bedroom and towards the door, trying not to flinch as I pass my father.

A car awaits us outside, the driver in the front looking bored out of his brains. I try not to laugh as the driver makes facial expressions in the rearview mirror.

I open the car door, scaring the driver into stillness, and slide inside. My family slides in beside me, all bickering about where to sit.

I sit silently, putting one hand over the other and close my eyes. I imagine what kind of life I would have if I didn't slide into this seat. If I'd never come outside.

If I'd listened to Kriss.

The province send off was short and sweet. That's the only way to describe it. The mayor gave a speech and people applauded, wolf whistles rang through the crowd. But it wasn't anything special. It didn't make me feel better about my descision.

After the 'big' send off, I'm escorted to the airport. Not many people can say they've ridden in a plane unless their a One or Two. I definitely didn't expect the airport to be so big. The large building looms over me, making me feel slightly nauseous. I push down the butterflies in my stomach. I wonder how big the plane will be.

People stand all around the building. They have cameras, recorders and little pieces of paper.

"Maxon," people call around me. Despite my escorts protests, I walk over to them. A few have shirts that say 'I'm rooting for you' and other encouraging messages. Some young girls even have my face on their shirt. I wonder where they got my picture.

I hear screams as I near the crowd. People hold out pieces of paper in my direction and flowers get thrown in my direction.

I pull my backpack off of my shoulders and dig into it, searching for my camera. When I get it out I point it in the crowds direction. Others hold up cameras of their own, the flash blinding me.

"Everyone smile," I yell over their noise. People scream loudly and pose. Others simply smile, or cry. It's a weird experience.

I get closer to the crowd and pull a piece of paper from a petite blonde girl. Her eyes water as I pull the pen from her other hand. I sign the paper, as I assume I'm supposed. Camera's click around me.

I talk to a few people, answer interviewers questions and pose for photos as well as taking my own of almost everyone I talk to. I sign more pieces of paper and give a few girls kisses on the cheek. In all I believe I delay the flight by an hour.

My escort looks frustrated as I swagger towards him on the other side. I know I've delay the precious plans but I wanted to talk to the people and they obviously wanted to talk to me. I'm a bit overwhelmed and my hair is a bit more dishevelled than it was when I left the house but it was worth it. After all if I want to win this, I've got to please the people.

Not that I actually want to.

I get taken to the boarding area where two other men stand looking positively pissed. They both stand with their arms crossed over their large chests, their eyebrows lowered in frustration. My smile melts off of my face.

"Hi," I say as I get close. "I'm Maxon." One of them, a stocky blonde fellow, grunts at my greeting. They other one, similar in shape but taller, softens his expression and puts a hand out towards me. I take his hand gladly and he shakes my arm hard and fast making my whole body shake. I laugh awkwardly silently begging he'll let go.

"I'm Markus," he says. He grins with his teeth, two matching dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"Nice to meet you." He laughs.

"You had us worried, boy." He chuckles. "Thought the crowd'd killed you." I chuckle a bit for show but don't find it that funny.

"Well if you boys are ready," a high voice says behind me, "I'd like to get this show on the road." I turn to see a strict looking woman wearing a pants suit tapping her foot maniacly. Her lips are pursed in disapproval.

"Silvia," she says taking my hand for less than a second. "Now we need to go." She struts off to board the plane. I glance at Markus to see him staring after her or more specifically, at her bottom. I slap his shoulder at his obvious gawking. He elbows me and laughs.

"What? Her ass is hot." Now it's my turn to purse my lips.

I could already tell that the Princess would never have Markus's full attention.

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I pace in the Women's Room as the shouting male voices grow louder and louder. 36 men in my home. 36 men here for me. I almost retch at the thought.

I could only imagine them and their male-tendencies. Their anger and testosterone levels.

I sighed and put my head in my hands.

"Don't worry, darling," my mother says, not looking up from the book she's reading on the lounge. "I'm sure it will be fine." I groaned in frustration, a very un-princess thing to do.

"What if they have expectations," I ask, letting myself collapse onto the floor. My dress billows out around me. It's another olive green dress making me look like a bag. It doesn't accentuate the right places and doesn't look nice at all.

"Don't be dramatic, America," my mother snaps. I sit up from my position on the floor. I don't know why she's not worried. She must know how father acts around women. She must've experienced it even if she didn't know I experienced the same.

"I'm sorry," I say timidly. She nods and turns back to her book. I sigh and stand up. Somedays my mother feels only half here. I know she has headaches and can't always be attentive to everything but sometimes it feels like she doesn't care about me at all.

I take a deep breath before standing and walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" my mother asks. I look over my shoulder at her.

"I think I should dine with my suitors," I say simply before walking out. I know they'll be about to dine. They're probably getting called to come.

I walk to the dining room and take my seat at the head of the table. I see name cards all around at the seats and swallow. So many different names, different people.

I place one hand over the the other and sit patiently waiting for my suitors to enter.

The first to enter is a tall, gangly man who looks about 17. He barely registers my presence as he sits in his seat at the other end of the table, I guess I'm not that noticeable. Others file in and take their seats none of them noticing me.

One blonde male walks in and freezes at the door, his brown eyes locking on my own. At his freeze the rest of my company turn to face me, now realizing I'm here. Some of them gasp and others gawk. I try not to frown at their interest in me or throw up. I give them a pleasant smile and look down at my hands. My perfectly filed nails and smooth fingertips.

A chair pulls out beside me and a body falls into it. Being on the left side of my father, guests usually sit beside me. I guess this suitor got the pleasure of being seated next to me.

I lift my eyes to his and see the boy who gave away my presence. His brown eyes watch me carefully like I'm a volcano about to erupt. His brown eyes latch onto my own blue ones and stay there. His body is tensed and stiff but he does not say anything unkind or anything at all.

Dinner is served and conversation arises in the other boys. The boy next to me stays quiet.

I feel his gaze, and various others on me throughout the dinner. I try to not curl over and try to make myself smaller.

I take a peek at the name card and see his name. Maxon. Not a typical name but it suits him. His honey blonde hair and tanned skin. His long lashes and defined cheekbones. I feel his gaze on me before his muscles tense and he freezes. Does he think I'm going to murder him now that I know his name? I try to look at his expression, what he may think of me, but his face is guarded, protected against other eyes.

As the dinner plates get taken and dessert gets brought in I stand. I look at each of their vile, male faces. Males aren't creatures you could protect yourself from but I know most are easy to controll, except for father, of course.

All of their gazes travel to me, some looking all over my body with a hungry gaze that makes my skin crawl. I shiver under their gazes.

"You may have been told some of the rules before you got here," I start, my voice strong, powerful. "But I am hear to make sure you hear me loud and clear." Some of them give me quizzical gazes. "You will not advance on me against my will. I will set the rules, I will initiate any form of contact we have with eachother, if we have contact." I pause for effect. "I am not here to be your whore, I am here to find a husband and you are all in my home. I will not accept rapists or predators." They don't blink. "Is that understood?" A series of nods occur around the room. I look into each of their eyes with a hard, cold stare. Some cower under my stare. I look at Maxon last and for longer. He gives me an expression that is understanding and almost curious. I look away before he can see it spelled out on my face.

Then I push my chair out and walk away from that table with my back straight and head high.

Like a queen.

 **Hey guys.**

 **I was astonished when I had so many good reactions from chapter 1.**

 **I am so happy that you guys enjoyed it.  
When someone enjoys what you write it just makes you happy.  
I have been playing with this idea since a while ago. Probably around 2 years ago. So it is pretty cool to have people like it.  
I hope you guys like this chapter. I have changed a bit of both of their personalities because they have both been raised differently from how they were raised in the book.  
Maxon has always searched for more than his little 5 life could get him and America hasn't accepted that she may rule and it will be revealed in a few chapters why she is how she is in this chapter, why she is so nervous around the boys and scared. **

**So comment, favorite and follow this story so you know when a new chapter has been posted/published.  
Your support for this story is what keeps me going, what keeps me writing so when you comment things and just generally support this story I get inspired to write more. **

**Anyways hope you guys have a great time reading this!**


	3. Chapter 3

**MAXON'S POV**

It's all I can do to keep my mouth from falling open as Princess America waltzes out of the dining room. Some of the other suitors smirk or stare at her in shock, others act as if nothing happened, as if they expected that.

Servers bustle around the table, throwing plates in front of us, a few of them smirking at their Princess' courage.

I try to focus on the soft sponge cake in front of me

I will set the rules, she'd said. The way she'd looked at me for a second longer than anyone else like I would be the one to advance on her. I cringed at the thought. I was a gentleman, a poor one, but a gentleman all the same. I knew when to advance, I knew when to act, how to act.

I curl my hand into a fist. Do I look like a predator? Do I look like someone who may do something like that?

"You okay?" the person beside me asks. I turn my head to a blonde male. His face looks pinched and his lips are pursed making him look like he just ate a lemon. His hair is combed to the side, not a strand out of place.

"Yeah," I reply. "Yeah, I'm fine." I shake my head, willing the thoughts of the Princess' low perception of me and uncurled my fist.

I only stay a few minutes more before feigning a stomach ache and making my way up to my room.

Once I'm up there, I clean myself up, rubbing off everything, anything just so my hands have something else to do than punch a wall. Was Kriss ever scared I would...rape her? Did she ever look into my eyes and see warning signs? Maybe the Princess was just big headed or paranoid. Maybe she just wanted to see the worst in everyone.

But the thought had me tossing and turning late into the night. Even as I willed sleep to come, it wouldn't, it refused. Giving up, I grab a robe and walk out of my room, into the dark hallway.

Everyone will be asleep, no one would notice if I went for a walk in the gardens. No one would see me if I kept quiet.

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I can't sleep. Fear of the species that sleeps just a floor below me forces my eyes to stay open, my mind to stay alert.

A cold shiver runs up my spine as I hear footsteps downstairs. Someone coming.

Coming to me.

I quickly throw off the covers, despite the freezing cold that strikes me as soon as their off, and run for my robe. I don't doubt I'm waking half the palace with my rummaging but I need to get out of this room.

My breathing becomes shallow as I feel my lungs constrict, as I feel my airways become smaller and smaller. My hands become clammy as I scratch at my throat, begging for air to come through, to fill my lungs.

Outside, I realize, I need to get outside. I scramble for a pair of slippers and run to the door, I fling it open, not caring who might possibly hear and come out. All I know is that if I don't get air into my lungs, I'll pass out.

I will my heavy legs to walk downstairs to the outside doors. Will my mind to make them.

I make it to the door before to large guards grab hold of my shoulders.

"You cannot leave miss," the bigger of the two says. His voice is deep, full of authority as if he doesn't realize who I am. Then again without makeup caking my face and the jewelry that usually sits around my neck and wrists, I probably don't look like myself.

"Please," I rasp out, kicking at the door with all of my strength. "I-I." I collapse in their arms before I can get any more words out. I don't lose consciousness but I can't will myself to fight against them.

"Let her go," a booming, unfamiliar voice says. I turn my head awkwardly to see the boy from dinner- Mason, Matthew?- standing in his pajamas at the top of the stairs.

"Who do you think you are ordering us around, contestant?" the smaller guard asks, chuckling along with his companion.

"Oh, me?" the suitor says, faux innocence in his voice. "I'm only trying to do what's best for the princess that you currently have collapsed in your arms." The suitor stalks closer, closer to me and the guards. A wave of fear crashes into me. I don't even bother hiding it. The suitor looks at my face and his face softens, he looks sad, sorry.

The guards shift under me, turning me to get a good look at my face. They stare at me skeptically, still wondering if I am who the suitor claims I am. The suitor, getting impatient, walks up to the doors and slides them open, growling at the guards' stupidity.

"She's the only goddamned red-head in the palace," the suitor says, his blonde hair now illuminated by the moonlight, half of his face shadowed.

The guards both seem to realize and hand my limp form to the suitor. They both apologize and the suitor waves their apologies to me away, like he has the right to.

Gratitude fills me but it isn't enough to rid me of the fear surging through my veins. Once I step outside, I'm running like a madwoman. To the suitor, I probably look drunk or at least insane. I don't care. Maybe if he thinks I'm insane he'll run for the hills, forget this whole competition.

I collapse again next to a stone bench. I leaned against it and sobbed. I sobbed for myself, for the fact that I'd just been so helpless in front of someone. I'm supposed to be strong, powerful, not cowardly and weak.

I hear the footsteps nearing and my whole body tenses.

"Are you alright, Princess?" the suitor asked. I look up at him and glare. Glare! I wonder what my parents would think if they could see me. He looks shocked for a second but recovers and a smile becomes plastered on his face.

"It took those guards quite some convincing for them to let me out," he continues with a wry grin, but not one of a predator, one of a friend. "I told them that my parents were shrinks and I knew how to deal with hormonal teenagers." I don't drop my glare. He turns his head away from me and his whole face is illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

His strong jaw is accentuated by the night sky, the curve of his lips appearing a bluish color. His brown eyes stare upwards at the stars as he studies them.

"The first photo I took was of the stars," he says, lost in his own words. "I remember how proud my parents were that I'd finally found my talent. My use." He chuckles then looks back down at me, at the tears that still fall down my face. He lifts his arm as if to brush them away but stops himself when he sees the hatred in my eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asks again. I turn my head down to the stone and groan.

"Why are you here-" I remember his name "-Maxon? Why did you enter this competition?" He sighs and looks back towards the stars.

"Because I wanted to know what would come of it," he admits after a second of silence. He doesn't look back at me and gets lost in his thoughts.

I don't accept it as I shoot to my feet. I don't accept that he admitted that so casually. Fire runs through my veins as I see red.

"You did it for an experiment?" I accuse, my voice raising. "You entered to see if your name would get picked? You played it like a game?" I throw my hands into the air. I know I shouldn't let my temper raise but he'd already seen some so he might as well see the rest of Princess America's wrath.

"That's not what I meant-"

"Is it not?" I hiss. I know I sound cruel, unyielding, rude, arrogant, all of those things. "I bet you never realized how much this is for me." I curl my hands into fists as they slam back down to my sides. "This is my future, my duty and I don't want it." I throw my arms up into the air and scream, "I don't want this!" I don't dare look down at Maxon's shocked expression. He can judge me all he wants, he can even report it to the news and I don't even care.

"You may want to-"

"No, I do not," I say, giving him another glare as he stares at me. My voice lowers slightly as I see his expression. It's a mix between fear and admiration. I slump down to the ground, my nightgown spreading around me.

"Just go," I say weakly, gesturing to the doors. He doesn't deserve my anger. He didn't make the Selection, he didn't turn it into a competition, a gambling event.

He's a pawn as much as I am, except for the fact that at any time he can become the chessmaster, he can control the game, he can ruin me.

I watch as he stands without an argument. He begins to walk off but freezes and turns around. He takes a step toward me and grabs a hold of my limp hand. I don't have time to pull away before he presses his warms lips to my hand.

"Goodnight, Princess," he says, his warm breath caressing my hand.

Then he slips away, back to the palace, to his borrowed bedroom, to sleep in his borrowed bed.

And all I can do is stare after him as heat fills my cheeks and veins. His back muscles clenching as he walks.

As he walks away the only thought I can think is: He was very handsome as he drew his mouth away from my hand.

 **So how'd you like the chapter.**

 **I thought I'd put in one of everyone's favorite scenes but change it so it fit this story better. Like even I'm fangirling over what I just wrote and how Maxon randomly grabbed her hand and kissed it, how she was flushed after he did so.  
Wonder what will happen in the next chapter between them.  
Comment what you think might happen. **

**So guys comment, follow and favorite this story it would mean a lot to me. Also if you want you can comment your current read below, I would love to know. Also any questions you may have about this story.**

 **Have a great week!**


	4. Chapter 4

**MAXON'S POV  
** The next morning I wake with a smile on my face. Last night I got to speak with the real Princess America. The one hidden behind the makeup and dresses, the one who didn't like that she had 36 men in her home, the one that didn't like that she had to choose one of them.  
And I liked her.  
She was fiery and a little bit scary but she was honest and she was just like me. Just the fact that she didn't try to mask her true self last night, she hadn't apologized or tried to excuse her actions, she'd let them be.  
Of course I was offended she thought that my entering was a game or a gamble but that was expected, I accepted it.  
We entered the Great Hall where we'd be officially meeting the Princess. Talking to her, getting to know her in the few minutes we'd have.  
The seats were arranged in rows. Rows upon rows with two chairs facing each other. Silvia called out where everyone was supposed to seat and we all followed her strict instructions. I found myself seated in the second row, 4th from the right next to a strong built, tall, dark hair boy. His green eyes shone as he sat down on my right. I turn to him and extended my hand. He looked surprised at the gesture but shook my hand.  
"Maxon," I said, introducing myself. He smiled a tiny smile.  
"Aspen." I tested the name out in my head and smiled. He looked like an Aspen. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he leaned over closer to me.  
"What do you think she'll be like?" he whispered, glancing up at my face. He looked curious enough but also frightening. I smirked slightly.  
"I'm not sure," I admitted. It wasn't a lie. Even after seeing her twice I didn't know what to expect. "But I know that whatever she'd like, she will change some of our lives forever." Aspen chuckled at that.  
He leaned closer to ask me another question but the doors open, making a loud creaking sound.  
We all turn our heads toward the door, looking to see her. To see the top of her red head as she walks in. To maybe see a tiny smile on her face, her shoulders that slouch so slightly in rebellion.  
She smiles at us as she enters flanked by two guards. Her red curls are tied into a bun at the crown of her head, a few stray strands hanging out to frame her face. Her lips ae painted a soft red color, almost peach. Her dress is not that ugly olive green she's usually seen wearing but a rich emerald green, that compliments her skin tone perfectly. The dress falls to the floor and the sleeves end at her wrists. She looks elegant, like a lady. The diamonds on the tiara resting on her head shine brightly, sending off reflection of light everywhere.  
I smile at how beautiful she looks. She doesn't seem to care that almost everyone in the room is staring at her, doesn't notice their hungry eyes as her eyes latch onto my own. Her blue eyes are smiling as she grins at me. I'm taken by surprise that she's happy to see my face. Yesterday she seemed like she was going to send me home that second. She turns her eyes to the first person, elegantly sitting down in the seat in front of him. He blushes furiously, his hands fidgeting as he scrambles for something to say to her.  
"She sure is beautiful, isn't she," Aspen whispers. I find myself nodding absently, not taking my eyes off of her. I hear Aspen sigh as he turns to the man beside him. I almost laugh at his impatience with me.  
I turn my head slightly to apologize but as the Princess stands and walks to the next male, I find I literally cannot take my eyes off of her.  
I have to watch as she walks from person to person, as she smiles at them pleasantly, as she leans in to whisper to them.  
She's mesmerizing.

It takes twenty minutes for her to reach me. Twenty minutes of her learning each of the other boys' names, twenty minutes of chatting with them.  
She stands up, bidding goodbye to the stocky boy beside me and turns to look at me. Her face softens and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. She holds a hand out to me before she sits.  
"Princess America Williams." She shakes my hand lightly, laughter in her eyes. "And you are?" I smirk and let go of the handshaking grip.  
"Maxon Screave." She mouths my name, pretending to make sure she remembers it as she sits down into the chair opposite me.  
She leans in closely, her face gone from playful to serious. Her voice is barely a whisper as she speaks.  
"I'm sorry about how I acted last night," she says. She looks down to her hands that are drumming against her knees.  
"No, I'm sorry," I say, as soft as she, "I should've respected your boundaries." I shook my head and chuckled. "How about we're both sorry and we both forgive each other." She looks up and smiles, a heart-warming smile.  
"Of course," she agrees. She giggles a bit as she thinks over what to say next. "I want to be your friend Maxon. I want you to be my…" she waves her hands around a bit, "consultant. I want a friend, a confidant until I can find one forever." My heart falls as I realize what she's suggesting. A _friend._ Not a suitor or even a contestant. A _friend._  
"I can tell that you won't be interested in me, that way, after last night. The way I acted will only get worse with age, trust me. And I need a friend here, I need someone I can trust who won't try to make me swoon, not like any of these buffoons can." I smirk at her name for them and that she didn't include me in the 'buffoon' category.  
She stares at me expectantly then I realize she's waiting for my answer.  
Well what can I say, 'No I want a chance at this so please back off with your friends talk'? No I can't. She's given me no choice but to say yes.  
I muster up the best smile I can and nod slightly.  
"It would be an honor to be your friend." She smiles, satisfied and leans back a bit.  
She turns and looks at the clock behind her then curses under her breath. She's spent most of her time with me. I look around at the jealous faces.  
She stands quickly, giving me a heart attack.  
"It has been delightful meeting you, Maxon." She holds out her hand and I quickly take it, sticking to her plan. I press her cool hand to my lips. I barely even notice she has something in her hand until she drops it into my palm. I conceal it in my hand as she walks to Aspen.  
My fingers itch to read the note but I watch as she converses with my neighbor.  
The laugh and smile a lot as he cracks jokes and flirts.  
I sigh wondering what everyone thought when she was speaking to me.  
Maybe they thought we looked like friends.

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I leave the room with closure. The nerves that I'd gone in with now vanished filled with only happiness. All of the men were lovely, none of them rude or obnoxious. Except for maybe one of the more muscled dark haired male. He joked about our marriage and children. He even took a glance at my chest which I ensured was fully covered. I let it slide but don't think I'll ever forget it.  
And Maxon. How forgiving he'd been, how generous. He was probably disgusted at my conduct last night but still agreed to be my friend, to accept me.  
I smile a bit at the thought.  
"I suppose the greetings were fine then," a voice says, sending a chill through my spine. I lift my eyes to meet my father's faded blue ones. A cold look is beheld behind his eyes. I try not to flinch.  
"Yes," I reply, my voice only shaking slightly, "it went swell." His eyebrows furrow as he looks me over from my head to my toes. A shiver runs down my spine at the look he gives me when he meets my eyes again.  
"You will come see me after dinner," he instructs. Tears burn behind my eyes and I yearn to defy him and say no but I have witnessed what he does to people who don't listen.  
"Yes, father," I say, scuttling off to the dining room for breakfast.  
My mother is already seated at the head of the table, smiling pleasantly, and so are all of the boys. All 36 of them.  
I hurry to my seat, noticing Maxon is seated beside me again and the darker haired, green eyed Aspen beside him. I smile at them both as I lower into my chair.  
Food is spread over the table. Pancakes, toast, sweet pastries, everything. My eyes catch on to a plate of strawberry tarts, just out of my reach. I could possibly ask someone to pass the plate to me but my hands shake at the thought of asking one of _them_ to pass me strawberry tarts. I turn my head away from the tarts and catch Maxon watching me intently as if trying to figure something out. He is close enough to reach the tarts, a hands distance from them. I plead with my eyes that he might give me the plate without me having to ask. He smirks then looks back down at his own piled up plate.  
Not passing the tarts.

When I go up to my father's room, after spending most of my day reading and listening to my mother's gossip, I'm shaking.  
My hand shakes furiously as I reach for the door handle. I close my cool hand over the handle and turn. The door opens slightly and I push it.  
My father stands in the middle of the room, my mother nowhere to be seen. I can imagine that my father made up some excuse for why she should sleep in her 'official' chambers tonight. I step in carefully, alerting my father to my presence. He smiles, a cruel, frightening smile, and steps closer to me.  
"Off now," he instructs harshly, pulling at my arm for me to get into the room. He carefully closes the door then stares at me expectantly. I try to push back the sob that is building up but it escapes, sending a ripple through my body as I carefully take off my dress.  
I try to stay composed while I take off my clothes. Tell myself that I have no say in the matter. That it could be worse. That he's the king and a king gets what he wants.  
But throughout the night as my father does what he wants with me and my body, I let my tears fall down my cheeks, let a few sobs out. I let myself cry because I know he wants that. It's his favorite part. He loves making people feel pain.  
He can't help it.  
He's just that psychopathic.  
And he's my father.

 **Hey guys.  
So today's chapter was….  
To be perfectly honest I knew from when I first had the idea bubbling that I would make Clarkson sexually abuse America. And in the book I thought that Maxon sort of implied that Clarkson sexually abused Amberley in some ways (I may have interpreted that wrong) but I wanted that to be there as well.  
So I am sorry if you guys were a bit offended or anything in this chapter. I profoundly apologize actually.  
But anyways, I hope you liked it despite that.  
Hope you guys have a great Wednesday/Tuesday (it's Tuesday night right now where I am but it may be different for you)  
Remember to favorite, follow and comment on this story it would mean the world to me. **


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

 **MAXON'S POV**

The dates begin almost immediately after the initial meetings. The first guy lucky enough to spend alone time with her is a broad shouldered, dark haired boy names Lanson. He's a two and non-stop talks about himself. He gets invited to go to gardens and play croquet with the Princess. He brags about it to anyone who'll listen, which is no one but he tells everyone anyway.  
After the date he boasted with an obnoxiously loud voice that every time she bent over he saw up her skirt. Most of the boys know he's lying because the dress America had on that day at breakfast was down to her ankles but none of us call him up on it.  
More and more boys get invitations for dates. Multiple people have dates on the same day, some of them even have conjoined dates. I try to not wonder why she would take two guys out at the same time but my mind can't stop thinking about it. She is only looking for one husband isn't she.  
Aspen talks my ear off about how he wishes he got a notification saying he could go on a date. I try to tolerate him because he's friendly and isn't a complete bastard. He says he never really wanted to come but he finds the Princess intriguing. I tell him I entered for fun, just as America suspected, even though it's a lie.  
"My sisters have always been obsessed with the Royal family," Aspen says, changing the subject. "They found pictures of the King when he was in his twenties and they talked about it for days straight." He chuckles. I join in. "You got any letters from home?" Aspen asks. I cringe at the nickname. He asked me a few days ago if he could call me 'Max' to which I said no. He proceeded to use it anyway.  
He talks about home and his dreams. I wish I could do the same but I know that it would only make me homesick. I tell him that I'm in a family of six and that I adore all of my siblings. I purposely refrain from speaking about my parents' drinking or that we barely have enough to eat each night. I don't tell him about how I skip multiple meals in a row to make sure my siblings have a full belly.  
"I got one from my sisters a few days ago," I reply. It was a sweet letter from Lisa and Leslie. They told me about how John was sick with the flu but they took him to the doctor. I shouldn't feel worried about them but I am. Lisa and Leslie are 13, old enough to take my baby brother to the doctor, old enough to cover up that Mom and Dad spend most of our money on whiskey or cheap beer.  
"Nice," Aspen says. "My Ma wrote me a letter telling me about what's happening. She says that everyone misses me but I know they don't." His eyes cloud over. Despair fills his expression. "My brother Jemmy," he starts, voice choked up, "he was-"  
"Aspen Leger, Maxon Screave," someone says at the door. I look over to see a messenger at the door with two pieces of paper lined up on a silver plate. We both jump up and reach for a letter with our name on it. It is written in elegant script. The seal doesn't look tampered with so either the messenger is good at hiding evidence or he didn't look. I look him over. He's scrawny, can't be more than twelve, and is shaking under my glare. I tell him he can leave and turn to Aspen who's already ripped open his letter and is reading it excitedly.  
"I got a date!" he exclaims while his eyes travel down the page. His previously despaired look is now filled with happiness. I look down at my own letter. Is it from America?  
Aspen's face falls as he swears.  
"I've got a conjoined date with that ass-head Johnny," he says with disgust. I stifle a laugh. We've only been for less than a week but everyone seems to hate Johnny. He's even worse than Lanson. He aways brags about how if he doesn't succeed in this contest, which he claims he will, he has a whole whorehouse waiting for him. He never stops talking, ever.  
Aspen has been assigned the date from hell.  
"Don't laugh," Aspen warns. He throws the piece of paper at the ground, swearing at it. I smirk despite his warning. The fact that Aspen is having his date conjoined with Johnny's means that I won't have to endure that terror.  
"Maxon, I suggest you waddle away before I beat your laughing ass," Aspen threats. I don't spend another second, I race off to my room, clutching the letter in my hands.  
Once I'm up there I laugh and laugh and laugh some more. Aspen is a decent guy but I don't doubt he'd kill me if even a snort came out after he'd said his date was conjoined with Johnny's.  
Once I've calmed down enough to breath I rip open the envelope.  
The writing is not as elegant as I've seen on other boys' invitations.  
 _To Maxon,  
I know this is fairly informal, especially from the girl that has been brought up to be the most formal girl in the country. But I wanted to invite you to a walk in the gardens.  
I wanted to talk to you, ask you about the other boys. Friends talk about that right? The only friend I_ _'_ _ve really had lives in France and barely has the time to visit.  
But I want to get to know you if we_ _'_ _re going to be friends.  
So if you would please meet me at the gardens at 7pm tomorrow right after the Report.  
Also I have a favor to ask. They will be asking about me on The Report, I know they will ask about everyone_ _'_ _s dates and stuff. I don_ _'_ _t want you to think that I didn_ _'_ _t want to see you I was just busy with the other boys and Princess engagements so that is why I haven_ _'_ _t been able to invite you to a_ _'_ _date_ _'_ _before now. Please don_ _'_ _t take it personally.  
It will be quite cold so you should probably bring something to keep you warm. Also could you tell your friend Aspen that I had to put him with Johnny and also not to take it personally. Once there isn't so much stress for me to have a date with every one of you, I'll be able to have a date with him alone (if he lasts here). But I've heard Johnny is a great guy. He's a Two as well so surely he must have manners.  
This was supposed to be a note with the time and date on the paper but I think I feel more honest in a letter.  
Sorry if I wasted much of your time.  
Princess America Williams. (See you tomorrow __)_ _  
_I chuckle at her not so short letter. I'm glad we get to spend some time together even though she claims we're friends. I guess I should want that. If we're friends I can go home and assure Kriss that when I drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.  
But until then I'll stick to being friends with the girl that has changed my life. 

**AMERICA'S POV**

I spent the last week in a living breathing hell.  
Every date was tiring and scary. And what was I thinking with the conjoined dates. Who wants to have a double date but have only three participants.  
I rest my elbows on my knees while I wait for my next dates. I sit on the ground outside with two horses neighing behind me. I chose horse-riding for my date with Aspen and Johnny. It seems perfect. I won't have to touch them and we can just ride. _It'll be great_ , I tell myself.  
I see two figures approaching and stand. My riding clothes are a pair of tan colored pants and a tight black riding jacket. My hair is tied into a bun but the bun is hidden by the black riding helmet.  
The boys both wear cotton shirts and trousers. They both look me over which makes my skin crawl. I shift a little on the spot.  
"Well," I say, irritation slight in my voice, "let's get going." I walk up to my horse, Silky, and pat her nose before jumping on her back. I grab ahold of the reigns before looked down at Aspen and Johnny. Aspen looks amazed by the horses whereas Johnny has a look of fear on his face.  
"They won't bite you," I assure Johnny in a somewhat comforting voice. Aspen jumps straight onto the horse, making Johnny look like a coward because he's still standing there.  
"You're such a baby, Johnny," Aspen calls out, chuckling. I glare at Aspen. I assumed that he is friends with Maxon by the way they are always talking to each other. He isn't like Maxon one bit. He's loud where Maxon is quiet and talkative where Maxon keeps to himself.  
"Why don't you ride with Aspen," I suggest. Aspen looks at me with horror. I know most guys would think it too gay to ride with another male but I can't stand the thought of riding on the same saddle as Johnny, I can't imagine riding on the same saddle as any of them.  
"Uh…" Johnny drawls. He doesn't seem happy about the arrangement.  
"It'll be fine, you two won't lose any of your dignity," I say before turning Silky around and starting with a slow trot. I hear a second set of hooves behind me and know that Aspen and Johnny must be sharing now. They bicker a bit about where to guide the horse but end up on my left side.  
I ask them a bit about themselves and they ask about me. I don't get any vague answers, only truthful, full ones.  
I try be relaxed and not let it show how much their truthfulness scares me.  
I try to hide it from myself how much it scares me.  
Because it scares me a lot.

 **Hey strangers.  
I'm sorry for not updating but I have had such a stressful few weeks. I also haven't been able to find something to write about in this chapter. **

**By the way, I was informed by a reader that I kept saying 36 instead of 35. Sorry. I didn't mean to write 36, I actually don't even know why I did.**

 **I would also like to thank that reader for the suggestion to make America flinch when she get's touched by any of the boys. I really like that suggestion so I may use it….you never know.  
**

**Thanks all of you for being supportive and I hope that this story is good enough for all of you.**

 **Much love**


	6. Chapter 6

**I want to say this before I get into the chapter because I know that some of you won't read the bottom. I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry that I haven't updated. I was writing this chapter for ages and I got to one point in the chapter that I could not figure out what to do so I kept deleting the chapter but it ended up the same each time. Then I was planning on spitting out a whole heap of chapters over the holidays and my laptop broke….well the charger did but the laptop was really old. So throughout the whole holidays I couldn't write because I had no laptop and then I broke my toe but now I have a new, wayyyyyyy better laptop but I do have to start the chapter from scratch so I am so terribly sorry and I will try to make it up to you.  
Also, I have read your comments and I know you want the chapter where Maxon finds out what's happening to America. I am not planning on writing that chapter for a while, I could still do it soon, but I want their trust to grow and I want it to sort of be how America found out about Maxon in the book but different, so look forward to that as you read the build up.**

 **Anyways, long intro, but I'm sorry and please, please, enjoy this chapter.**

 **Chapter 6**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I wake up with a pounding headache. It must be because of all of the dates and things I've been forced to notice and remember about 34 different boys.  
I push the blankets off me and sit up. My chest aches and my throat is sore from speaking so much.  
"Princess," a trill voice calls. I groan out loud, not trying to disguise my displeasure at the voice. Linette trots around the room, glancing around for something to do. She looks at me last and gasps.  
"You look horrible," she comments, no bothering to hide the judgement. I nod in sarcastic thanks and stand from my bed. I walk up to my floor length mirror and cringe at my reflection. Normally I consider myself average but right now I look like I've just been attacked by a mugger. My hair is knotted and fluffy, my eyes have thick dark circles underneath them and a large pillow imprint marks my left cheek. I sigh and grab a brush from my vanity. I work at the knots before Linette can get to them herself.  
"How are we going to get you ready by the time you have to go on your date?" Linette asks herself. I drop the hair brush and look at her in the mirror.  
"What date?" I demand, my voice croaking and sounding more like a male's. I spin quickly to face her. She looks like I've got a gun to her head but I don't apologize, waiting for her answer.  
"With Sir Maxon of course," Linette says. _Crap._ I completely forgot about my Friday date with him. It's been hard enough to remember my other dates without worrying about this one. And then the _Report_ is almost directly after it.  
"How long do we have?" I ask, my voice softer and calmer now. Linette sighs and looks to her watch.  
"About an hour." I swear under my breath, a very un-princess thing to do. I pick up the brush and hand it to her.  
"You're faster," I explain when she raises her eyebrows.  
I sit down on the chair at the vanity and let her roughly brush my hair and style it.

An hour and fifteen minutes later I'm walking down to the gardens to meet Maxon. He's no doubt already there. I try not to trip over as I rush down there. Maxon stands with his back to me examining a patch of petunias. His golden hair shines in the sunlight and when he bends down to pick up the flower, the muscles in his back move. I scold myself for thinking those thoughts before walking up to him. I clear my throat, not wanting to tap his shoulder to get his attention. He turns slowly and I almost gasp.  
The sunlight touches his face perfectly and the light reflects off his eyelashes beautifully. He smiles widely and looks like he could light up a room with that single smile.  
"Hi," he says, running his hand through his hair. I wonder if he's nervous. I wonder if he thinks I look horrid today just as Linette did-  
 _Stop it_ ,I tell myself, _you don't care.  
_ "H-hi," I say, my croaky voice catching. His eyebrows fall down onto his eyes.  
"Are you okay?" he asks. I curse myself for sounding like a man today.  
"Um, yeah," I reply, smiling slightly to hide my wince at my voice. "I just woke up with a bit of a deep voice." He chuckles then holds the crook of his elbow out, expecting me to hold it. I look at it for a minute, my heart racing. Instead of grasping his arm I move forward to look at a bush of bright yellow flowers. I pick one and hold it in my hands. I can't look so scared but I can't touch him. He may be Maxon but he's a man, he has urges that I do not want to serve.  
It's not his fault he's dangerous.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I watch America as she looks at each of the plants with extreme interest. She looks radiant today if a bit tired. Her light pink sun dress is loose, not showing any curves or hugging her body at all but her pale legs show giving me thoughts I should not have from looking at legs. Her bright red hair is braided down her back in a what looks like elaborate braid. I want to pull the braid out and run y fingers through-  
She's the princess. I'm not allowed to think those thoughts. We're _friends._ She made that clear. And I have Kriss to think about. What would she think if she knew I was thinking like this after only knowing this girl for a week? She'd probably be disgusted.  
I focus on the Princess' face, the way her expression changes when she sees a particularly beautiful flower or the way she squints when sunlight reaches her eyes.  
I walk up to her, standing beside her but keeping my distance. I point at one of the sunflowers.  
"They're beautiful," she breathes. I chuckle as she reaches towards it but keeps her small yellow flower in her hands.  
"I had to spend a summer only taking photos of sunflowers because a herbologist was studying them and needed photos because he was allergic to pollen," I tell her. "He payed me well but ever since that summer sunflowers have never looked the same." She laughs loudly and puts her tiny yellow flower on the flower bed. She reaches over and picks a sunflower, lifting her leg behind her as she bends over. It looks so graceful.  
She smiles when she stands and steps slightly closer to me. She holds the sunflower up to my face as she giggles.  
"It such a shame because sunflowers suit you," she comments with a childish grin on her face. She steps up on her toes, becoming even taller than her heels provide. She raises the flower above my head. I widen my eyes in alarm.  
"Don't," I warn, putting one foot back. She bites her lip before shaking the flower wildly over my head. Pollen lands on my hair and the suit I'm wearing. She laughs before stepping down from her toes and throwing the flower to the ground. She dusts off her hands with a smug look on her face.  
"You are going to pay for that," I say, playfulness laced in my tone. I pick up a flower that produces sap and wipe the sappy side her arm. She looks at me with shock on her face. I smirk before jogging off in the other direction. I hear her throw her heels to the ground and the slapping of her feet against the path as she runs after me. I sprint off into a new part of the garden with tall plants hiding me. The slapping of her feet stop and I let out my breath.  
"It's okay that you lost," I say jokingly but also concerned I doubt many people beat her in things, she could take it badly.  
"Lost?" a quiet voice asks behind me. I turn slowly to see the Princess of Illea with a long green hose in her hands, the nozzle pointed directly at me.  
"You wouldn't," I gasp. She has a mischievous glint in her eyes telling me that she will. I barely have time to think before I'm being blasted by water. I start laughing as I carefully take the hose off of her and hold it above my head, too high for her to reach. She stands close to me, attempting to jump up and get it. The hose wets us both and soon we're both soaked and laughing. She has a broad smile on her face and I wonder if she's done this with any of the other suitors.  
"I've never done this before," she yells over the sound of the hose. She comes close and clutches the front of my jacket. I know it is a subconscious movement because despite the fact that I've only known her a week, I've seen how she reacts to human contact, how she reacted to my extended arm.  
I let her grasp my jacket for a while, letting her have this moment of trust. 

**AMERICA'S POV**

I can't stop laughing. It's the first time I've truly laughed this much. Who knew getting flower sap on your arm and playing with a hose would be this fun?  
The material of Maxon's jacket clutched in my hands is cold. _Clutched in my hands._ I jerk back, letting go of Maxon's jacket. How did I get a hold of it? I try not to think about it. I let my guard down. I try to cover it up by crossing my arms over my chest and shivering. I smile a bit at Maxon but he still has a look of rejection and worry on his face.  
"I'm freezing," I say to cover it up. Maxon starts to take off his jacket but I put a hand up to stop him. "Your jacket will be just as cold as my dress." I can feel the water matting my dress to me, forcing the material to cling to my body and hug my curves.  
I turn around and walk in the direction of the palace. I need to get inside ad change my clothes. I need to have space to think.  
"That was fun," Maxon comments, walking up beside me. I look at his face. No trace of the rejection remains, only pure happiness. I wonder if I imagined it because it's what I would expect.  
"I've never done anything like that before," I admit. "Being a Princess doesn't really give me those kinds of opportunities." He laughs.  
"Well I've never been a princess so we're even," he replies. I want to nudge him with my shoulder playfully but I keep my shoulder to myself.  
We're nearing the exit of the gardens.  
"Tell me about your photography," I blurt out. I want to take back the words the instant they are out but Maxon smiles.  
"What about it?" I can feel my cheeks heating up.  
"What's your favourite thing to take pictures of?" His smile widens. He wags his eyebrows.  
'Your ears are too innocent for my favourite things," he says, purposely deepening his voice. I blush even harder and he sees it.  
"I'm only joking, Your Highness," he informs me. The blush doesn't go away. "My favourite thing to take pictures of is people." He looks ahead. "But not posed photos. Photos when they're unaware. They look so normal and precious. It's those moments I love to capture." He stops walking. He looks at me and holds his hands out.  
"It's like when I'm taking wedding photos," he starts. I stop walking, intrigued by what he's going to say. "I take the usual photos but I also take the more unprepared ones. I take photos of the groom as he watches his bride walk towards him, of the father keeping in the tears as he watches his baby girl grow up, even of the priest's boredom from saying the same thing again." I giggle.  
"That sounds amazing. I would love to have a talent like that," I mutter. He smiles at me, looking at me not my body or even my face, looking at _me._  
"I'll make sure to show you some one day," he promises. I smile at the promise and begin walking again.

We take a secret path up to the guest floor where he's staying so no one sees us. We probably look ridiculous. Two people in expensive clothing that's soaking wet. We whisper and giggle the whole way there. I drop him of at his door.  
"Thank you," I say and mean it. He smirks.  
"You're welcome." Then without giving me time to process it, he grabs my hand and plants a warm kiss on the palm of it, an unusual spot. Then he lets go of my hand and walks into his room, shutting the door behind him. The warmth on my hand spreads through my whole body making me giddy. It's silly that he's made me feel like this by just a palm kiss but I do. But I know that it can't happen again. But it's a nice thing to have in the moment.  
Who could guess that knowing this boy for a week has changed me already? 

**MAXON'S POV**

I listen to her walk away from my door a minute later. She was probably processing it. I sink down to the floor and sigh. I can't let her affect me like this but it feels good to let go of my obligations to Kriss and even Princess America for a minute. To let myself feel real emotion.  
Oh god.  
I'm falling for the Princess of Illea.

 **GUUUUUUUUUYYYYYYYYS. I feel so happy after writing that and cannot stop smiling at their cuteness that is coming from my fingertips. It feels really weird to fangirl over my own writing and to be all bubbly and happy after writing something. You guys probably think I'm being weird by fangirling over this chapter too but AHHHHHH.  
So anyways I hope you like that, I'm just putting a bit more Maxmerica in there for you guys so your welcome. This chapter is just my cutesy, first date chapter. And yes despite what I've been saying about Maxon not finding about Clarkson and stuff, I want him to know she ain't comfortable with men. He's an observant guy.**

 **ANYWAYS, I'm so sorry for not updating but I hope you forgive me annnnnnd I hope you really like this chapter. Comment your thoughts and what you may want to happen in the future.  
Love you guys XOXOXOXOX**


	7. Chapter 7

********MAKE SURE TO READ THE BOTTOM, IT'S IMPORTANT!**************

 **Chapter 7**

 **MAXON'S POV**

To say that I'm nervous for the _Report_ is an understatement. I know the nervousness doesn't show because my smile is too wide and my eyes are too bright. I give myself a once over in the mirror before walking out in the hallway only to be intercepted by Aspen.  
"Hey," he greets, sticking an arm over my shoulders. He looks smart in his green suit and combed back hair. "Haven't seen you since breakfast," he comments. I shrug, the smile not coming off of my face.  
"I had a date with America," I explain. He smirks at me. We're the same height if I'm not taller. He ruffles my hair.  
"How was it?" he asks in a singsong voice. I chuckle a bit.  
"I could ask you the same about your date?" I reply. He didn't have time to tell me this morning because I was too busy listening to one of the suitors, Jayme's, propaganda about having slept with the Princess after their first date.  
Aspen groans.  
"It was awful," he answers. He pulls his arm off my shoulders and skips ahead a few steps so he can walk backwards. "Johnny spoke about himself the whole time and we had to share a horse." Aspen chuckles a bit. "You should've seen his _face,_ Max. He was white as a ghost when he saw the horses." I chuckle a bit at that. I can imagine all buff Johnny cowering at the sight of a horse.  
"Now tell me about _your_ date," Aspen persists. He comes to stand beside me and I push him playfully.  
"We just walked around the gardens," I tell him. I don't want to tell him about the water, it seems like a private moment we had that I don't want to spoil.  
"Just walked?" Aspen mimics, sounding unconvinced. "Didn't you talk or do anything?" I sigh. Sometimes Aspen can be hard work.  
"We talked about sunflowers and photography," I give in.  
"Boring," he yells out inappropriately. I want to stick my hand over his mouth but he's just having fun. Anyone who hears has to accept that we're just two boys away from home.  
We walk into the studio together shoving each other playfully. All of the other boys are mingling and producers are bustling around the room. I spot America talking to Gavril with a concerned look on her face. I want to go over and comfort her but I know I'd be stepping out of line.  
Aspen and I walk over to a few of the other boys who're talking amongst themselves about football. I've never been much of a football fan, preferring boxing and gym. I try not to think of how I got into those sports.  
During the conversation I can't help looking over at the Princess. She looks beautiful in the light pink dress she's wearing and her hair tied into a bun. Her eyebrows are creased and her mouth frowning which only makes her look more gorgeous. She turns her head and meets my eyes for a second before bashfully turn away. We're only _friends_ and friends don't stare at each other for extended amounts of time.  
"Alright, Romeos," a shrill voice says out. Her voice projects and we all turn towards the sound. Silvia stands wearing a pale green suit with a clipboard in her hands. She points around the chairs, yelling different boys' names. Each of them quietly stand and take their place. It's all I can do to assume that the _Report_ is starting soon.  
I don't get seated beside Aspen and instead get placed beside a quiet, timid boy named Johannes. I don't bother trying to talk to him and instead look around for Princess America. I spot her almost immediately sitting beside her mother, their hands intertwined. I smile at their obvious closeness. The King sits beside his wife watching us all with an evil glint in his eyes. His gaze meets my own and I quickly look away but the few seconds our eyes were meeting have me shook. I focus on a the wall instead of watching people in fear someone will meet my gaze again.  
"Lights….," someone called, "camera….Action!" A spotlight circles around Gavril Fadaye just before he begins to speak.  
"Hello people of Illea," he greets staring at the camera. "Today we have a special program for you. For the first time ever the lovely Princess America's suitors stand in this very room." He gestures to us. I smile widely and look to the Princess who is blushing and smiling shyly.  
"Let us all meet the very handsome Quinton James from Kent," Gavril calls. The boy names Quinton stands up and walks over. He's lean but muscled and tall. He towers over Gavril before he takes his seat in one of the prepared chairs. "So Quinton, what is your first impression of the princess, and, double question, have you two been on a date?" Quinton laughs awkwardly before answering in a very deep voice. He runs a hand through his dark hair and I'm sure I can see a bead of sweat running down his chocolate face.  
"Well, we spent some time in the archery ranges. I taught her a few techniques but I personally think she already knew them." He winks at the princess who blushes furiously as she giggles. "She was quite clever and very, I mean _very,_ beautiful." Everyone laughs at that. I look at Princess America who seems to be holding back tears and blushing. I stop laughing and furrow my brows. I miss what Gavril says but Quinton makes his way back to his seat. The Princess' gaze meets my own frantically. I give her a concerned look before mouthing _it's going to be okay_ ,even though I don't know what 'it' is.  
Boys file through, each of them telling their own stories of their dates. I occasionally glance over at America who is wearing a pleasant smile but in her eyes she looks terrified.  
"And last but certainly not least, we welcome Mister Maxon Screave to the stage."

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I can't take it. They've all commented on my beauty and made joke and I can't take it anymore. Some of them have exaggerated the whole date by saying that I must have enjoyed their company or that I seemed to like them very much; I can barely stand any of them.  
Maxon stands, his blond locks falling across his forehead for a moment before he brushes it back. He puts on a show stopping smile but it seems to waver for a moment before setting in place. He takes his seat, settling into the plush white chair.  
"So Maxon," Gavril muses. I close my eyes hoping Maxon can be decent enough to not tell anything more than that we walked through the gardens. The whole date was a mistake. I could've told him something he could say rather than actually letting him experience a date. I could have given him a script and I doubt he would even mind. We're friends and friends help each other. Stupid to play with the water and stupid to even suggest we go to the gardens. Stupid stupid stupid.  
"What have you and our lovely queen-to-be been up to this week?" Gavril wags his eyebrows making everyone laugh. Maxon smiles softly and looks up at me. I can see the question in his eyes, _what do I say?_ I want to run over and thank him. I keep smiling but briefly shake my head, such a small movement that no one would notice. Maxon turns back to Gavril with a wider grin on his face.  
"You two can speak telepathically now, can you?" Gavril jokes. Maxon chuckles and even I giggle a bit.  
"You've caught us," Maxon replies with his arms up in surrender. He's a natural at this. Even I'm not that good with cameras and publicity and I've been doing it my whole life. Maxon's joking face softens to a more reserved happiness. "No, we really just spent a great afternoon in the gardens. I told her a bit about sunflowers and photography, lighting and those things and we just walked around." He smiles lightly afterwards. A communal 'awww' runs through the room. Maxon keeps his head turned to Gavril but I see his eyes dart this way for a second. It reminds me of catching him staring earlier. He was probably just glancing around but I felt all gushy for a moment.  
"That sounds sweet," Gavril comments. He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. "What do you think about her?" Maxon smiles wide with his teeth and thinks for a moment before answering.  
"She's such an amazing person, despite her status and I feel so lucky to have this experience to meet her and get to know her." My heart drops and my breath stops. I feel butterflies flying around my stomach. My smile widens until I probably look like a crazy person. Maxon turns and looks at me, sincerity in his gaze.  
"Well that was lovely," Gavril says. He stands, leaving Maxon sitting in the chair. Maxon looks confused but stays in the chair. Gavril addresses the camera. "That's all for this week's _Report._ Stay safe and we'll see you next week." The lights go out and I hear people bustling around. I look around in the dim light for Maxon but I can't see him. I need to talk to him.  
"My room ten o'clock," my father's deep voice says behind me. I shiver but nod.  
I run out of the studio and straight up to the second floor. I walk up with the boys, chatting with some of them, thanking them for their kind words but looking around for that one face.  
I say goodnight to the boys and slip into Maxon's room hoping none of them see or hear me go in.  
Now I just have to wait.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I got caught up talking to Aspen after the _Report._ He said I was a true TV personality and should consider acting after this. I didn't know if I should take it as a compliment or an accusation.  
I know a lot of people will think what I said about the Princess wasn't true but now I knew it was. At the time I was looking for something that wouldn't upset her but would also make me look good, now I know it's true.  
I open my door and begin to take off the scratchy suit jacket and then move to unbutton my shirt but a tiny squeak stops me. I turn around and spot the Princess standing in the middle of my room with a horrified expression in here. I'm over to her in three steps.  
"Your Highness," I hiss, "what are you doing here?" She looks apologetic and sags.  
"It's stupid but I needed someone to talk to and you popped into my mind," she admits. It takes a few seconds to process. I start laughing.  
"What?" she demands. I laugh more.  
"You could've just waited outside," I say through laughs. I know I'm only laughing from relief that I didn't finish removing my shirt before she squealed.  
"And be seen as a suspicious whore princess?" she says, astonished that I even suggested it. "And how was I supposed to know you would strip off before the door even closed?" I laugh hard before walking over to my bed and falling down to it.  
I laugh into the sheets and after a few minutes hear her giggle softly. I sit up on the bed, calmed down and pat the spot next to me to invite her over. She sighs and jumps down on the bed. She lies back so her legs are dangling off the side. She looks exhausted and it's only nine o'clock.  
"Did you mean what you said about me?" she asks, sounding dazed. She swings her legs back and forth. I sigh and lie back. So even she didn't believe me.  
"Is there any reason I wouldn't?" I say as an answer. I see the corners of her mouth raise a bit. She doesn't seem to mind that we're lying this close to each other which is weird.  
"Thank you," she whispers. I smile.  
"Your welcome." She sits up on one elbow, most of her body still lying down, and looks down at me. We stare at each other for a while before I break the silence.  
"If you were asked the same question," I start, "but about me, what would your answer be?" She smiles and thinks a bit. I can't help but think about how beautiful she looks.  
"I would say that you are one of the kindest, gentlest males I have ever met and you are an absolutely phenomenal person." I smile and chuckle a bit.  
"I don't beat any females in the kindest, gentlest person?" I joke. She smiles before reaching out and poking my shoulder. I take in a deep breath and so does she.  
"No," she says before looking up at the clock and jumping off the bed. I sit up but don't step off the bed.  
"What's wrong?" I ask, alarmed.  
"I…I have to g-go," she says not looking at me. She darts to the door and runs out of the room.  
I want to follow her, I want to see what she's running to. But I stay where I am, giving her space. 

**Did you like it? Do you see the trust forming? I'm so excited. Also, you got two chapters in a row.  
So the very important thing that you have to read this for is that I am going to do a Q&A in a few chapters for you guys. So what I need you to do is ask questions because you can't have a Q&A without the Q. So in the comments write a question about the story or really anything OR if you want to be private about your questions, text me via my Instagram account fantastical books.**

 **Have fun asking your questions, next week I'll probably have the Q &A up next week if I get enough questions so please ask them. They can be about the story, what I may be planning to do, why I write, how I write, the music I write to, my future projects or just questions about me (for e,g, when did I first read the selection, what's my favorite book etc.)**

 **Have fun and please enjoy the rest of the story!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I walk slowly, hoping that Maxon will follow or something will find a way to stop me from going to my father's bedroom. I look at the clock on the wall. 9.55. I curse and run up the stairs. I need to get there on time. I've never been late and I never will be. I don't know what would happen if I was late.  
At exactly ten pm I'm knocking on the door. I wait for a second before the door opens slowly and I step inside. _Just pretend it's a nightmare, a truly terrifying nightmare._  
The King stands with his back to me, shirt of and back muscles rippling with what looks like rage.  
"The people are starting to see fault in my rule," he says. He does this often, tells me what is on his minds before he uses me. I've never figured out why. Does he think he can be honest because he knows I won't breathe a word? "They have circulated rumours about me abusing you and your mother." He sighs. "I would never harm a hair on your mother's head. She is too dear and soft. Sure we argue sometimes because she is a bit confused but I would never hurt her." I feel the question bubbling in my throat, aching to be released. I feel like I know what he'll say but the question squeezes its way out.  
"Why hurt me then?" I ask barely audible but I know he can hear. He chuckles, a deep menacing laugh, before answering. He steps forwards and roughly grabs my shoulders.  
"You are not my own child, you are merely an heir." He pulls down the sleeve of my dress, exposing my shoulder. "You are not my blood nor did I choose you." He laughs again. "When I chose Amberley she told me that we couldn't have children because of her illness. I told her I couldn't care less because children are meaningless. Things to occupy the wife. And I don't want my rule taken over." He lifts his arms up in surrender. "But life is going to take me, oh yes it will, and when it does one of the men sleeping below us will be warming your bed using you the way I do." He laughs. I feel my throat bobbing as I push down the tears. "Nobody wants you. None of those men out there want you, none of them in here want you. Your own birth mother didn't want you." The tears escape. He pulls the rest of my dress off in one sweeping motion.  
I shiver as the cold air touches my almost naked body. My father roams his hands over my body, not pausing when I cry out at the pressure. "The only reason a man will ever want you is for your body. We have urges and every single one of us is the same." He's whispering but he might as well be yelling. "You need to get that in your head." A pause before he begins in a singsong tone. "They will use and abuse you just like I do." And he repeats that for the rest of the night.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I wake up the next morning feeling great. After I finished worrying about the Princess I had the best sleep I've had in years.  
"Boys," a trill voice from the hallway calls out. I don't know why Silvia would be waking us up but I assume it must be important. I quickly shower and am dressed in the suit left for me. I don't even bother looking in the mirror before stepping into the hallway.  
"Ahhhh," Silvia says as a greeting. She comes over and rests her small hand on my shoulder. I don't see anyone else out of their rooms. "We're taking photos today," Silvia tells me. "You need to go down to the studio. I believe you're one of the middle ones today." I nod and make my way down to the studio.  
It looks different to how it did just one night ago. There's less people and instead of having video cameras, backgrounds are set up and professional photo taking cameras are arranged at different angles. Absently, I walk towards one of the cameras. I walk around, looking at the lense and the size of it. The camera must have cost at least $500.  
"Can you not read signs?" a high accented male voice asks. It scares me but I recover and turn around. A tall wiry man wearing a beret stares at me impatiently and points at a sign. _PLEASE DON'T TOUCH THE CAMERAS._ My mouth forms an 'o' shape before I step away.  
"Technically I didn't touch," I defend. "I am a photographer myself." The man looks unfazed. I chuckle awkwardly to fill the silence before moving away and over to my name card. I look around at everyone getting the lighting right and moving things around for the pictures. One of the backgrounds has nothing in front of it and the other has a chaise lounge. I wonder what the pictures are going to be like.  
The other boys file in, all of them yawning or dragging their feet. I receive a few glares probably because I'm early but some boys also smile or wave.  
"Alright boys," Silvia says, standing in front of us. She is reading something from her clipboard, staring at the thing intently.  
"You will all listen to _exactly_ what the men say," she instructs, not glancing up from the board. "They are professionals and will not be sassy talked to by any of you who do not wish to pose." A few boys snicker at the term 'sassy talked' causing Silvia to throw her hands up and walk away mumbling.  
The first name is called and I wish desperately that I could see what is happening down there, how they're taking the photo, how Princess America looks.

It takes forever for it to be my turn but the time slowly comes around. I watched the few boys in front of me as the posed with the Princess. She looked uncomfortable even through her smile and anyone could see that. The poses were very formal and stiff and I saw many things that could be improved.  
I walk out and smile at the Princess warmly. She looks slightly relieved but slightly worried and I don't know what to think of that.  
"Hi," I say when I reach her.  
"Hi," she whispers back. The photographers instruct us to go into a specific pose where I have my arms tightly held on her shoulders. I brush my fingers over her shoulders, causing her to stiffen up before I rest my hands around her waist. She stiffens completely to the point where I want to check if she's still alive.  
"They said shoulders," she breathes. I laugh before turning my head to address the men. They do not look amused.  
"I think it would look more sincere and more natural if my hands rested on her waist rather than her shoulders," I say. I can imagine Silvia slapping her forehead and shaking her head. "And if you wish for this photo to look loving and gentle the waist is a much better spot for that." Some raise their eyebrows and then they turn to each other to discuss.  
"Has anyone told you yet that you look beautiful today," I whisper to America as we wait. She shakes her head slowly, her body not relaxing at all.  
"You'll be the first." I laugh.  
"You need to loosen up a bit," I tell her. I grab her wrists and flap her hands up and down. She begins to laugh and I can feel her muscles loosen. "That's better," I breath against her neck. She smells so nice, like flowers and soap.  
"I hate that everyone is watching," she admits. I look up at the other boys who are surely watching. I rest my hands back on her waist and this time she doesn't stiffen. I want to say something like 'pretend they're all naked' but I can't see how that will help.  
"These guys here aren't very good at their job," I tell her instead. She giggles.  
"Why?" I smile and press my chin against her shoulder.  
"Because imagine seeing a photo, hanging on your wall after you've been married for 25 years and you look like strangers."  
"That wouldn't be good," she breathes. "You would look stupid."  
"Exactly," I reply. "So, make sure not to hang these photos from today on your wall." She laughs and leans back against me, her hand absently reaching for my neck. I hear a click as a photo is taken. The Princess doesn't seem to notice so I touch her shoulder and motion for her to look at the camera. She looks towards it and gives it the tiniest smile. I reach down and take her hands in mine and she doesn't shift uncomfortably or flinch. Photos click but I can't help thinking about how small that smile it.  
I begin to tickle her, making her smile widen and widen as the photos are taken before she bursts out laughing. I laugh with her and soon we're both laughing instead of smiling for the cameras.  
We only take one, serious photo at the couch before I'm whisked away and another boy moves to the platform.

 **AMERICA'S POV**

The rest of the photos don't live up to the ones with Maxon. They refuse to hold anywhere but my shoulders and don't tickle or talk to me. I shouldn't trust them but I want more people to talk to me during this god-awful session. I feel stupid wearing this big white dress. All I want to do is take it off and have a long bath.  
When the photography session is over I make my way up to Maxon's room for the second time. Is it invading someone's privacy to be doing this so often?  
I knock on the door softly and hear a muffled 'Come in." I open the door and slip inside before anyone can see.  
"Hello?" I call, looking around for Maxon. He appears comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist and a toothbrush in his mouth.  
"Princess?" he asks, look down at his nakedness. I'm immensely grateful for the towel being there or this would be very awkward.  
"I was bored," I tell him quickly. Really, I was. "And…," I continue, "I was wondering if you wanted to come to the roof with me." He raises his eyebrows, still brushing his teeth but also holding the towel up.  
"There's an entry to the roof that very few people know about. It's secluded and breezy," I tell him. In truth, I like the gardens better but the roof is someplace that I discovered when I was younger and I liked to call it my thinking spot.  
Maxon pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth and smiles, toothpaste staining his lips.  
"Sounds like fun," he says. "If you wait here I'll just go get some clothes on." I nod and he disappears back into the bathroom.  
I walk over to his bed where a backpack sits, photographs falling out of it. I pull the ones that are hanging out into my hands and look at them. There are pictures of two identical young girls, a baby boy and a beautiful blonde girl. Maybe it's a sister or a friend. Maybe she's even a lover. I try to ignore the not in my stomach when I think of that.  
I hear a door open and shut. I throw the photos back on his bed hoping he doesn't notice.  
He smiles at me before extending his hand. I hold onto his elbow as we leave the room and head for the roof.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I try to ignore the pain at why she's here. Not because she wanted to see me but because she was bored. Couldn't she have asked some other suitor to entertain her?  
"We need a sign," I say. I've been thinking about it for a while but have never got to saying it.  
"Like what?" she asks, sounding amused. I remove my elbow and face her, pausing to show her what I had in mind. I run my fingers through my hair.  
"You know, for when we need each other or just want to see one another. We shouldn't use the normal system." She smiles for a moment then points to her head.  
"I can't always run my fingers through my hair. Tiaras and pins would get in the way." I think for a moment before quickly rubbing my hand across my forehead. She laughs.  
"You look like your wiping sweat off your forehead." I groan before tugging my ear. She claps.  
"Tugging ears!" she exclaims. "Such a clever idea. If you or I tug our ears we need to see each other." I nod and smile. I open my mouth to say something else when alarms begin to ring. I look at the Princess in confusion. She looks terrified, stunned to silence. She stands motionless for a minute but then grabs my hand and tugs me down the hallway.  
"What's happening?" I yell over the alarms. She doesn't look back but I hear her reply and it makes my blood run cold.  
"We're under attack."

 **So how did you like it? I thought it was about time to bring in some of the rebel things because the book isn't all about Maxmerica. 3 chapters in 3 days?! Wow you guys are lucky.  
I forgot to put this in the last chapter but I got a comment saying something about my formatting changing which made it harder to read. I honestly have no clue what I did but I am so sorry that I can't fix it to make the chapters more readable. So I am sorry.  
Also do you guys want me to incorporate some good ol' America and Aspen soon. I kind of want to even though I am Team Maxon all the way. **

**AND just a finishing note: don't forget to ask your questions or we will have no Q &A and I will cry (not literally, it's okay guys). So yes please comment questions, thoughts and what you want to happen.  
Enjoy the rest.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I don't think, I just move.  
We haven't had an attack in weeks, maybe even months and they choose right now to attack. I know where every single one of the escape rooms are and can find them in my sleep. But Maxon doesn't.  
He's slowing me down and he probably knows it but I need to get him to safety. What kind of friend would leave him behind?  
"What do you mean attack?" he asks, his voice rising in pitch. If it were a normal situation I would laugh at his panic but can't afford to laugh now, I need to stay focused.  
"The Rebels are infiltrating the palace," I reply in a semi-calm voice. I've done this a thousand times, had attacks happen my whole life but I can't help but be scared. There are so many lives that rest in this one palace. If it's the Northern Rebels we could get away unscathed but I shudder to think what the Southern Rebels would do. I quickly look back at Maxon, who looks terrified with his eyes wide and his face pale. I want to reach out and comfort him but it's no use comforting someone when you are freaking out yourself.  
I feel across the wall for the latch I know is there and pull it.  
"What is that?" Maxon asks, sounding even more frightened than before. He probably assumes it's some type of weapon like most people do.  
"The entry," I say before pulling the small door open and ducking my head to fit inside. I hear Maxon shuffle in after me, his back bent because of his height.  
I quickly walked down all of the stairs and turned all of corners with Maxon close on my tail. He doesn't speak until we get down to the room and even then, he only takes a deep breath and comments about having excitement for the evening.  
I look around for my parents in the crowd of mostly suitors and spot my mother huddled in my father's arms. I quickly run over to them, pushing through people to reach her.  
"Mom," I whisper when I reach her. She smiles softly and untangles herself from father to squeeze me tight.  
"I'm so glad your safe," she whispers into my auburn hair. I smile against her shoulder. She says that every time an attack occurs. It makes me feel needed and wanted despite what my father tells me. I remove my arms from her body and turn around. I look around at all of the suitors, counting them up to make sure we've got all of them.  
A sudden bashing on the door mixes up my counting.  
"Ignore it," my father demands, his voice booming throughout the whole room. I catch eyes with Maxon who looks like he wants to walk over to the door despite what his king is said. After about five minutes of constant banging I can't stand it. I begin to make my way to the door. I hear my father growl for me to stop but I continue forward, loving this rebellious streak in me.  
I reach for the latch and pull it open.  
A girl almost falls in the room. She looks like a maid with her blonde hair half up in a bun that must have come loose in the chaos and her maids uniform. Her eyes are rimmed red and her face is flushed. Despite this dishevelled state she looks familiar though I can't tell where from.  
"Thank you, Your Highness," she breathes immediately. I smile and step to the side to let her through and hear an intake of breath. I turn to the sound but no one seems to have caused it. My father pushes the boys roughly aside to get to the girl.  
"Out," he commands. She trembles at his presence, tears welling back in her eyes.  
"P-p-please, Your Majesty," she pleads. I feel a pang of sorrow for this poor maid servant. The rebels would have infiltrated the palace by now and it would be cruel to make her walk out there.  
"Your escape room is elsewhere," he continues. A tear slips down her cheek but she doesn't make a move to stop it.  
"You've got to be kidding me," Maxon exclaims, appearing out of nowhere. "There is room in here for the whole army to fit. She's not big and won't take any room." He looks furious but intensely sad at the same time.  
"There are not enough beds to support this… _maid_." My father says maid as if it's a curse word. I'm speaking up before I can think.  
"She isn't too big," I reason. "She can share a bed and rations with me if it come to that." My father looks insulted and my mother looks terrified. I look over to Maxon who has a look of pride in his eyes. I don't know why that look turns my insides to mush.  
"Fine," Father hisses. "She can stay." He storms off in the other direction with my mother close behind. My eyes don't linger on them and instead move to the trembling maid girl who has her eyes latched on Maxon. I wonder if she finds him attractive…  
"Come," I say gently extending my hand to the girl. She looks at me with gratitude and takes my hand quickly. I guide her towards a bed in the corner, away from everyone else.  
"Thank you, Princess," she says again. I wave her thanks away.  
"Please call me America," I say. "I have to listen to everyone call me Princess and all of that all the time. I feel it makes me superior but I feel like in my blood I'm the same as you." She smiles and mouths my name before saying it aloud.  
"Thank you, America." I smile before seeing the tiredness in her eyes and the weariness in her movements.  
"Go to sleep. I'll come back later." She doesn't hesitate before taking her side of the bed and closing her eyes. Her eyelashes flutter against her flushed cheeks and she smiles slightly. Her slowed breathing makes me believe she's already asleep when she speaks.  
"I'm Marlee."

 **MAXON'S POV  
** I look around for America after she takes the girl to their bed. I smile at her bravery. I can't see her standing up to her father easily.  
Aspen appears next to me.  
"That was a good thing you did," he says. I shrug. Honestly, I spoke before I thought about what I was doing. It just made me so angry that the King refused to let the poor girl stay. "Really, I would've said something if the King wasn't so scary." I laugh. Aspen doesn't seem to be the kind of guy to get frightened easily. He shoves me to the side. "It's amazing that my fear can make you laugh so hard."  
"I'm sorry," I say apologetically. "It's just with all of this chaos it's nice to laugh." He chuckles once.  
"I get what you mean." He pauses before smirking and staring off. "I wouldn't have signed up of I knew death was a requirement." I laugh again at that, still scanning the crowd for the Princess. I don't know why I need to find her if I know she's okay. She must be okay. I don't know why I need this reassurance, I shouldn't need it.  
"There's the lady of the night," Aspen says pointing to the Princess. He whistles grabbing her attention and bringing her towards us.  
"You two okay?" she asks, concern laced in her voice. Aspen chuckles and rests his elbow on my shoulder. I can't help but notice how different his chuckle sounds than before.  
" _We_ should be asking _you_ that, don't you think," he replies. I don't laugh. I can't remove my eyes off her beautiful face, grateful that we were together when the alarms sounded. Who knows if we would've made it if we weren't together. She smiles softly at me as Aspen flirts and jokes. He looks over at me with a broad smile on his face and nods. Despite the lack of language, I get the message. I clear my throat.  
"I think I'm going to head to bed," I say as an excuse. Both of them say quiet goodnights and I walk off.  
Aspen is still a contender in this competition. He still has a chance at becoming the King of Illea. He needs this time to try to make her love him.  
I walk over to a secluded corner where I see the small maid girl sleeping. I carefully lower myself into the bed a meter away, careful not to wake her but her eyes open slightly anyway.  
"Sorry," I whisper across. She shakes her head and moves to rest her head on her elbow.  
"Thank you for back there," she says. I nod, dazed. She's beautiful in an in-your-face sort of way. With high cheek bones and full lips, she looks like a model.  
"I truly didn't want to find my way here, I was hoping it was a servants room," she admits. "We were told to go to the specific room but I forgot where it was. I'm only new you see. A few of us girls came at once, all of us here for one reason or another. I wanted to check if one of the other, younger girls got to safety but I found this room first." She sighs and I find myself wanting to help this poor girl who had to go through hell to find the right door.  
"What's her name? I'll ask about her for you when we get out," I ask. The girl's face lights up.  
"Kriss. Kriss Ambers."

 **AMERICA'S POV**

Aspen tells me about his family and about his home while making cute little jokes at the same time. He's cute, I have to give him that, and really interesting.  
His green eyes shine under his dark hair and his smile is so wide you have to smile as well.  
"I've been trying to figure out who you look so similar and I finally realized today," he says with a smile. I smile back.  
"Who?" I say, trying to sound flirtatious. He smirks.  
"One of my neighbours, we sometimes clean their house when they have some spare coin. Her name's May." He smiles softly at the memory of this 'May' girl. "She's the sweetest thing and her mother cherishes her dearly."  
"They sound nice," I say and feel my heart rejoice at the thought of this young girl who looks like me that is kind enough to spare some coin for people less fortunate when she probably doesn't have enough herself.

 **Did you like my 3 reveal-y sort of things. I wanted to introduce Kriss in a sort of way that they introduced Aspen in the book. Initially I was going to make Kriss the maid that knocks on the door but I had to include Marlee. I also wanted to briefly introduce America's true family even as small as their part is. Maybe I'll introduce them again, maybe not. I don't know if I will but I like just having them here.  
Also to people who read my other Selection fanfiction: Second Chances, I was reading through the comments and saw all of the disappointment at the short story but this one, I **_**promise,**_ **will be longer. I have to incorporate 3 books into one story so yeah. I may take a few breaks when I finish a 'part' of the story. So yeah hope you enjoyed.  
Also don't forget to ask questions for my Q&A. We have a grand total of 0 questions. Come on guys! Please.  
Anyways much love and enjoy the rest. **


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm putting in a little note before the story because some people were confused thinking Kriss and Marlee are the same person. They are two different people. Marlee befriended Kriss because they were both new maids. So yeah….  
ENJOY**

 **Chapter 10 (wow)**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

When I wake up the next morning I'm relieved to hear that the threat is over. On top of my worrying for everyone, I had to walk around checking that all the suitors were comfortable and feeling okay. I loved talking to some of them but it was tiring.  
"The threat has been resolved," my father calls out, waking a few people that weren't already pacing the room. I sit up in the bed and rub at my eyes, a smile spreading across my face.  
I look over at the girl lying beside me. She didn't wake at my father's booming voice. Her hair has fully come out of its bun and falls over her face. Her cheek is pressed against her hands and a sliver of drool falls at the corner of her mouth. She looks so peaceful that I don't want to wake her but I know if I don't wake her she'll be scolded.  
I place my hand on her shoulder and shake it. She pushes my hand away, mumbling something unintelligible.  
"Come on," I whisper. I put my head down beside her ear and blow into it playfully, hoping it will wake her up. She sits up faster than I can blink. Her hair is a mess, knotting up around her shoulders and an imprint marks her cheek. I fight the urge to laugh.  
"We're allowed out," I tell her. She whips her head towards me and gasps.  
"Your majesty," she breathes, trying to curtsy in the bed. I giggle.  
"Remember what we talked about," I remind her. She looks at me confused before a smile of recognitions spreads across her face.  
"Sorry, America." I laugh and slip out from under the covers. She follows closely behind, attempting to fix her hair.  
"Come with me," I insist, taking her hand and pulling her towards the door. We push through the suitors making their way through and run through the tunnel and up the stairs.  
"I can fix your hair," I explain to her when we're out of the door. I pull her up the stairs and to my room. Once we're in and I've locked the door, I sit her down on my vanity chair. It's an odd reversal of roles but I kind of like it.  
"I can do it myself, America," she insists. I wave her away and start running the brush I took of the dresser through her hair. Her hair is soft and smooth. I envy her for a minute before remembering all the things I probably get that she's never even thought of having.  
"Who's your favourite?" she blurts out. I watch her in the mirror as she clamps her hand over her mouth. I giggle, pulling some pins and elastic bands from the drawers. I gather her long hair up and pull it into a bun.  
"What do you mean?" I ask in response to her question. It isn't hard to guess what she means but I really don't want to get into my relationship with the suitors.  
"Out of your suitors." I begin strategically placing the pins in her hair, pulling back any loose strands.  
"I haven't decided yet," I answer. She bites her lips, wanting to say something but holding it back. She decides to say it and opens her mouth.  
"Maxon seems nice," she whispers. I see a blush run to her cheeks and I smile despite the twinge of jealousy bubbling in my stomach.  
"He is," I agree. She smiles. I knew some of the maids would adopt little crushes on the suitors. I hope that Maxon and Marlee remember each other when they leave and find each other again. I can just imagine them falling for each other and having a child. I hope they make me the godmother.  
I pat her bun before moving away from the back of the chair to sit on the bed. I sink into the soft mattress and sigh.  
"I must be off," Marlee says. I look at her. She smiles. "Maybe we'll see each other again, America." Then she scuttles off and out of my room.  
Even though I just woke up, my eyes flutter shut and I fall into a dreamless sleep.

 **MAXON'S POV.**

I can barely think as I pace around the Great Room. I came straight here after we were let out. I needed space to think and for some reason I gravitated towards the Great Room.  
Kriss is in the palace.  
She is here.  
I don't know whether to be happy or scared. She basically told me she wanted nothing to do with me last time we spoke. And she's probably furious that I didn't try to save our friendship after that. How did she get here anyway? Her family isn't struggling for money and have no reason to send Kriss away. _Why_ is she _here_?  
I need to find her. Demand to ask why she's here or at least ask her if she's okay. Did her family lose their fortune? Did someone die?  
"Maxon?" a soft, familiar voice calls. I turn around to see her. Her long honey coloured hair pulled back into bun and wearing the standard uniform for maids.  
"Kriss?" I call. She smiles, tears filling her eyes. She runs forward to hug me but I stand back. Her face falls and one of the tears fall onto her cheeks.  
"What?" she asks, the same tone she used last time creeping into her voice. Her face starts to look impatient, her eyebrows coming down over her eyes and her lips pouting.  
"What are you doing here?" I sound harsh, not intending too. She steps back and frowns.  
"I had to come," she answers then begins to pace. "My family thought it would be good for me to get down and dirty for once." She kicks at the ground then looks up, fresh tears forming. She still hasn't wiped the other one away.  
"I've missed you." Then her face crumples and before I can push her away she's clutching my shirt and sobbing. Naturally my arms surround her, comforting her like I always have. "I never meant what I said to you and I know you think I'm an awful person for saying that. Your decisions shouldn't determine our friendship. I'm an awful person and I understand if you want me to leave you alone." I think for a minute before tightening the embrace.  
"Losing a friendship with you is the last thing I'd ever want to do," I say into her hair. I feel her smile against my chest before I let go and push her away. She looks into my eyes and butterflies fill my stomach.  
"I should be getting back to my duties," she says, gesturing to a mop leaning against the wall. I nod and turn around, moving towards the grand piano that sits on a stage. I can hear Kriss walking towards her mop but I don't turn around. Too much has happened in so little time. It makes me wonder how the Princess can live with the threat of the Rebels and look after all of us.  
I sit down on the piano stool and push the lid back. The piano has a screen of dust over the keys telling me it doesn't get played often. I do my best blowing off the dust and rest my hands over the keys.  
I've never been the pianist, my mother tried to teach me before but it always ended in me walking off. I learnt a few things and could teach my other siblings the basics after my mom started drinking but I can't play complex pieces. I've also never been a singer. I remember when I tried to sing for a concert and tomatoes were thrown my way before I got to the chorus. It makes you think about what people are thinking when they throw a tomato at a ten year old.  
I start to play a familiar tune: 'Canon in D' and I watch as my fingers fly over the keys. I'm a bit slow and I play foul notes but I can hear the tune playing.  
I remember the first time I heard my mother play this song. It automatically became my favourite and I demanded that she teach me. I remember the tears and aching fingers after every lesson that turned to smiles and applause.  
I remember when my mother actually looked at me.

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I must have been sleeping for less than an hour before piano music fills my ears. I don't recognize the tune but I gravitate towards the music. I'm all the way down the stairs when I realize I'm still only dressed in my nightgown and a robe. The smooth tiling is cool against my feet.  
I push open the huge doors to the Great Room as quietly as I can and slip inside. It's warm in here and I hug the robe tight around my body.  
Music fills my ears from every corner of the room and I move softly towards the piano on the stage. Maxon sits on the piano stool, his eyebrows creased in concentration and his focus completely on the piano. I walk up, careful not to step on the boards I know are loose. I stand a distance away from him so I don't stir his playing but I can still see his fingers dancing over the keys.  
The song finishes and he relaxes his body with a sigh. I begin clapping automatically, causing him to whip his head around and look at me.  
I smile and don't stop clapping but step forward with a smile on my face.  
"That was beautiful," I tell him. He smiles shyly and goes to stand.  
"Thankyou." His smile grows as I step closer and closer. My knees are almost touching the piano stool when I stop. I've always wanted to know an instrument but my father said it was impractical and silly for a princess to learn music. He said princesses were for listening not producing. Even so when I was ten one of my maids gifted me an old violin she'd owned and taught me the basics. It took a lot of secret practice after that but I began to play songs fluently and some of them even well.  
"Could you teach me?" I ask, motioning for him to stay seated. He smirks and moves over a bit to let me sit. I hesitate before taking a place beside him. He's Maxon, he's safe. Our shoulders brush and I blush slightly before lightly resting my hands over the keys. It feels as if they belong there, as if they are meant to be there.  
I can see Maxon smile in the corner of my eye before he begins to instruct in a calm and patient voice.

 **How did you like it? I'm trying to bring back a lot of what was in the books like her musical ability and things. I hope I'm doing a good job and I hope you all like it.  
Not much of a long sign off today because I stayed up to finish this chapter and I'm tired. So goodnight and I hope you enjoy the rest. **

**Note from a day later: I was going to post this as soon as I finished it but then the document uploader thing was not working and I was way too tired to try anymore. So a whole day later I present you chapter 10!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys. Usually I do my little talking at the end (recently I haven't been but oh well). So about ten minutes ago I was just checking to see if any more reviews had been posted and I came across this one by OdeliaLovesBooks. Honestly thank you so much. It was a very long review but I read and loved every second of it. It almost made me cry.  
I am so glad that I can make you guys feel this way about my story. Honestly reviews like these keep me going. I only continue to write, continue to feel good about what I'm writing because you guys seem to, for some crazy reason, love my writing and my story. And I wasn't planning on writing a new chapter today until now. So thank you. And I am so glad my story makes you guys happy and makes you guys smile.**

 **Now onto the chapter!**

 **Chapter 11**

 **AMERICA'S POV  
** I sit at the piano, attempting to play the song Maxon taught me yesterday. He said it was the first 'real' song he'd ever learnt and I've made it my mission to perfect it. If my father catches me here he would be furious. He'd say I should be seeing to my suitors.  
A knock on the door makes me pull my hands back from the keys immediately. The door creaks open and Aspen steps in.  
He smirks and raises his eyebrows, walking towards me.  
"Was that you playing, Your Highness?" he asks. I don't know why my hands are shaking like mad. I look up and nod curtly. I stand up and brush down my skirts. He smiles thoughtfully before jumping into one of his many stories.  
"Do you remember the neighbours I told you about?" he asks. I nod. "Well I remember when I was young, I would visit because I was friends with May's older brother, Kota. I remember Mrs. Singer trying to get May to choose a specialty. Mrs. Singer wanted May to be musical but May would bang the keys, making awful noises until Mrs. Singer gave up. It was quite funny to watch." He looks up at the ceiling. I laugh at his story. This May girl sounds amazing. A part of me yearns to meet her, to get to know this girl that reminds Aspen of me.  
I walk towards the door slowly, knowing that Aspen will follow.  
"Would you like to attend a movie with me Mr. Leger?" I ask, attempting to sound formal. I look back at his face which is lit up like a Christmas tree. I smile to myself.  
"Y-yes, Princess," he stutters, "that sounds great." I laugh at his excitement.  
"As long as we don't want any romance movies," I say jokingly. I wag my finger to add to the effect. He bends over laughing. I skip backwards, watching his reaction and start laughing hard myself. I feel like a child. It reminds me of when I would run through the halls with Daphne when we were children.  
"I swear that I will not subject her majesty to watching a ridiculous romance movie," he pledges with a hand held in the air.  
"Good." I summon him to follow me and we make our way down to the 'cinema'.

The seats are red and plush, the light dim. I can see Aspen staring with his eyes wide at the concept of what's in this room.  
"You pick a movie and I'll make popcorn," I say to him. His eyes get wider, almost bulging out of their sockets and he goes to the thousands of movies we have to offer.  
I pour the kernels gently into the machine, followed by the oil and butter and watch as the kernels fly around and turn into the fluffy white popcorn.  
I scoop the popcorn out of the bowl and put it to the side. The bowl is large, large enough that both of my hands are required to carry it. I take it towards the seats where Aspen is sitting, flapping a disc around. I put the popcorn down in between two seats and lean over to see the movie Aspen chose.  
It's a movie based on the Gregory Illea. I smile and nod for him to put the disc in.  
He's very attractive from the back, and, to be completely honest, the front as well. I watch the muscles in his back move as he moves his arms.  
He comes back to his chair and throws himself down, grabbing a handful of popcorn as he sits.  
The movie starts and we're forced into silence. I can only hear Aspen as he munches on his popcorn, quite noisily if I must say.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I walk back up to my room, my shoulders hunched and my camera hanging carelessly from my neck.  
I walked down the to the Great Room to take a photo of America playing the piano but instead found her skipping out of the room with Aspen in tow. I did get a photo of them together though. They looked happy and I didn't want to waste an opportunity for a great picture.  
I push open my door and drag myself over to my bed, collapsing with my face pressed against the bedding. I shouldn't even be feeling this way. She's made it clear that we're just _friends._ But those moments we had in the garden and during the photoshoot. To me they weren't 'just friends' moments. They were special, things to cling onto when I'm feeling sad.  
I push myself off of the bed, disturbing the neat folding and placing of the blankets and storm out of the room, with my camera clutched tightly in my hands. I need to leave this palace. I can't stay here because it's making me think things and do things that I shouldn't be doing.  
I need to find America and tell her I have to go. I make my way down to the cinema where she is probably cuddling with Aspen. Just as I'm reaching for the door a hand on the centre of my back stops me.  
"Don't," the voice warns. It's a smooth, calm voice. It's a voice I briefly recognize.  
I turn to face Marlee. She looks shocked and out of breath. Did she run after me?  
"Sorry," I say, not daring to meet her big brown eyes. She must think I'm crazy, pounding down here like I can.  
"Don't be sorry," she whispers. She turns and walks back up the stairs. I follow silently. I feel like a child getting told off. My head hands low and my arms are just hanging from my body like pieces of string. We reach the top of the stairs and she grabs my chin to pull my head up. A lot of people seem to do that these days.  
"You're in love with her," she accuses, after examining my eyes. My eyebrows come down hard onto my eyes and I wrench my chin out of her grip.  
"I'm not," I defend. I turn my head away but in the corner of my eye I see her smirk.  
"I don't know you very well Maxon Screave but I know when a man is in love with a woman." She giggles a bit, reminding me of a child.  
"I'm not in love with the princess," I repeat. I can feel defensive anger rising. I _am not_ in love with the Princess. How could I be? We've known each other for a few weeks, a month at most.  
"Tell yourself that," she spits back. I glare at this maid who thinks she can tell me how to feel. She looks twice as angry as I am. She pushes back a stray strand of hair.  
"Even if I was in love with her, which I'm not, it's none of your business, Marlee," I hiss. She flinches at my harsh tone. I should feel apologetic but I don't.  
"One day we're going to laugh about this," she tells me, tears filling her eyes. She turns quickly and shuffles out of the room. I want to run after her and say sorry. She's only a maid servant, I shouldn't take my anger out on her.  
"Kriss is safe," I yell, hoping she can hear me. It's the one thing she wanted me to find out.  
I let my shoulders fall once more and drag my feet back to my bedroom where I can sulk.  
Why is being friends with one of the most powerful women in the world so hard?

 **AMERICA'S POV**

The movie was boring and it took every inch of my soul to not fall asleep during it. Aspen enjoyed it, yelling out at particularly intense parts.  
At some point, when both of our arms were resting on the arm rest, he reached over and took my hand. His was warm against my ice cold one. The warmth filled my whole body, sending a shiver through my spine. I didn't let go of his hand though until the end of the movie when I stood up. It felt nice to let someone hold me, even if it's just my hand.  
"That movie was great," Aspen exclaims as the credits roll on. I nod and push myself off of the chair. The room suddenly feels too small and like there isn't enough air.  
"I need to go," I tell Aspen before rushing out of the room. I run up the stairs and gasp for air. Sweet oxygen fills my lungs. I blink away the tears that began to fill my eyes. I need to get a grip on myself. I spend two hours in a room watching a movie with a guy and I'm a wreck.  
"Princess," a voice calls. I find Marlee sweeping the floor. I smile and walk over to her. Her cheeks are flushed like she's exhausted. She's probably been cleaning all day.  
"Do you need any help?" I offer, reaching for the broom. Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head.  
"I can't ask you to do that," she says. I roll my eyes and reach for the broom again. She shows little resistance. I begin to sweep around where she's been sweeping. It's easier than I thought it would be. I begin to laugh.  
"Isn't this a sight," I tell her, spinning around with the broom. She giggles and goes to get another broom. I continue sweeping before realizing heels and sweeping don't match. I slide off my shoes throw them to the wall. They land messily in front of the pure white wall and I laugh at the contrast of my bright pink stillettos against the boring wall.  
I slide around the floor sweeping and when Marlee comes back I've swept half of the floor. She smirks and then laughs. I look at her like I'm surprised she's laughing then bring the broom to my mouth and pretend it's a microphone. I sing one of the only rock songs I know and spin around, acting crazy.  
Imagine if someone from the public saw their high tempered princess dancing around with a broom and no shoes on. What a sight!  
Marlee joins my silliness, jumping in at the chorus. We laugh and soon we're on the floor laughing our heads off.  
Why is it that when I'm supposed to be most sensible, I become so childish? 

**MAXON'S POV**

After dinner, I look through the photos I took today. There are the boring ones of random rooms in the palace and then the ones of Aspen and America heading to the cinema.  
I smile when I come across the photos I took of America and Marlee. They both look like they're having so much fun in the photos.  
I fall asleep with the photo of America pretending to be a Rockstar right in front of my face.

 **How'd you like it? No there were no** _ **actual**_ **Maxmerica moments but we did get a tiny glimpse of Maxon being a creepy photo taker (jokes jokes I love you Maxon). I really wanted to incorporate the fact of America's youth in this chapter because she's had to be so serious. And I know she was never overly silly in the book but I want to make her have a silly streak in this because I can imagine her not having time to be silly when she was a kid living in the palace so she's getting that time.  
Please comment your thoughts and I will get back with a new chapter soon!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys. I think I'll do like a little hello and a farewell on my chapters. Also, I'm officially giving up on the Q &A but if you happen to ask any questions I will answer them in this section.  
So in the talk of questions I have one to answer (YAY!)  
So **_**FandomsUnited99**_ **(btw, love the username) asked: '** _ **Have you read the Mortal Instruments? If you have did you like it?'**_ **  
Hehehe. I absolutely adore the Mortal Instruments. It is like the best thing ever and I just love all of Cassandra Clare's work. I don't want this to be long because this is supposed to be a chapter not me gushing but definitely recommend it 100%**

 **ON WITH THE CHAPTER!**

 **Chapter 12**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I had to let go of five of the boys. It was inevitable but it was still awkward telling them their participation was over. You'd think boys wouldn't burst into tears in front of a girl but one of them broke when I told them the news.  
That was a week ago. Since then, I've spent countless hours on pointless dates talking about useless topics. I couldn't express my boredom during the time I spent on those dates.  
I walk down to the Dining Hall, already running late for breakfast. I slept in, dreaming of days when every second of my time wasn't focused on entertaining men for the people's entertainment.  
"Princess," a voice calls. I slow down to a stop, letting my already dragging feet stop, but don't turn. I recognize the voice.  
"Maxon," I reply, closing my eyes. He chuckles and I can tell he's standing in front of me looking at the godawful maroon dress I've been dressed in and the tight bun that is pulling my skin from my skull. I probably look ridiculous to him.  
"How are you?" he asks, taking my hand and placing it on the crook of his elbow. I smile at the thought. He begins walking, guiding my temporarily blind self.  
"Good but I think you should stop calling me 'princess and just use my name'," I tell him. I've been thinking about it for a while. I've always being referred to as Princess and because Maxon and I are just friends it should be acceptable to be on a first name basis.  
I squint through my closed lids and peek at him. He has a brief smile on his face.  
"Okay, _America._ " My cheeks flush at the intimacy in the way he said it. _It's just your name, get a grip._  
"How are you, Maxon?" I ask in return. With anyone else this conversation would sound like petty small talk but with Maxon it feels deeper. I open my eyes fully now, looking up at him with interest.  
"Well, my siblings sent me gifts for my birthday even though I told them not to but everything is okay-" I stop walking abruptly and turn so we're practically chest to chest.  
"Your birthday?" I ask, astonished. How did I not know about his _birthday_? Maybe I've just been too self-absorbed like a true tyrannical royal.  
"Yeah it's tomorrow," he replies. I grasp his elbow again and walk faster towards the dining hall.  
"What? Why are we walking so fast?" he asks, laughing. I smile.  
I can just imagine Maxon putting so much effort into his siblings birthdays but never having anyone notice his own.  
I won't let that happen this year.

I rush through breakfast then find Silvia directly after. She seems taken back but my forwardness as I don't usually go to her for anything but if anyone can plan something special for Maxon it's Silvia.  
"Your Highness," she greets, fiddling with her clipboard. She looks especially professional today, with her hair in a tight ponytail and her business jacket freshly ironed or maybe she always looks like that and I just don't notice. I don't even know what I don't notice anymore.  
"I need you to plan a party for tomorrow night," I say. She raises her eyebrows and her eyes go wide as she starts worrying her lip.  
"Tomorrow is a bit short notice, Your Highness," she informs me in a pleasant but stressed tone. I bite my lip impatiently.  
"Silvia," I say calmly, putting both of my hands on her tense shoulders, "I've seen you put together a party in a few hours." The corners of her mouth raise at the comment, obviously remembering the numerous times she put through the party of the month in three hours. "And I will work vigorously to help." I clasp both of my hands together and stick my bottom lip out. "Please Silvia, it's for Maxon's birthday." She smiles then looks at her clipboard. I've never seen what's on the clipboard but I've always assumed she kept everything there.  
"Fine but I need you to write invitations and organize music," she starts to babble out a list of things I have to do. She's never really shied away when anyone said they can help. She's resourceful and anybody that can help is a body that she needs.  
"Alright," I tell her, "I'll get started right now." I smile at her and then run back up to my room.  
I need to find a way to keep Maxon busy all of today and tomorrow but also find a way to hand out the invitations without him noticing.  
I start to pull out my stationary sets and put them on my desk in a neat pile.  
I pause, almost dropping the pens I am holding and think. If one of the suitors could just distract Maxon for a few hours then I would have time to hand out the invitations.  
I push the pens I'm holding onto the desk and stand up.  
I need to find Aspen Leger.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I finger the new camera in my pocket. It's a wonder that my siblings could even afford it with food costs. Even with the money from the Selection they wouldn't have enough to buy me a brand-new camera.  
I pull it out of my pocket and look at it. It's a slim black camera with a long lens. It looks more like the cameras wealthier Fives own. It is spotless, without a scratch like my usual camera. My camera we bought second hand when I was 9 years old. I remember seeing it on the shelf, with all of its dents and scratches and wanting it so badly. Even in its condition it was a bit more than we could afford especially with the new baby on the way. So, I asked the man at the counter to keep it and that I would have the money for it in a month. If I didn't scrape up enough money I gave the man permission to sell it to someone else. He smiled and nodded, agreeing. And then it took almost every second of my day, and every penny saved, but I had just enough to buy the camera. I remember taking it home and taking a picture of every plant and rock I saw. The pictures were bad and blurry but they were taken with a camera of my own that I bought. Since then I bought a new lens because the old one was too damaged to really make a living from.  
I start the journey up to my room but at the stairs I'm intercepted by Aspen.  
"Max," he calls like I didn't see him. I sigh and stop, waiting for Aspen to meet me at the stairs. "New camera?" he asks. I smile and look down at the camera again.  
"Yeah," I call back even though he's only a few steps away. I play with the strap and run my thumb over a few of the buttons.  
"Cool-"  
"Aspen!" a very familiar voice calls. We both look up at America hurrying down the stairs taking two at a time. She looks the same as she did this morning even if her hair is a little bit less controlled.  
"Princess?" both Aspen and I respond. We both chuckle at our 'jinxing' then look back up at America.  
"Boys," she replies with a hint of suspicion in her voice. She waves a hand and speaks again. I assume that she needs to talk to me, maybe slap me for not telling her about my birthday. "I need to speak to Aspen." My mouth almost falls right open but I compose myself. Has she been seeing Aspen a lot without telling anyone? Aspen grins and walks forward, moving his face near her lips so she can whisper her message. She smirks before leaning close to his ear and whispering something. His smile grows throughout the message.  
"Cool," he says, loud enough for me to hear. He puts his thumbs up and pretends to not be on cloud nine. She must have asked him on another date and even though I tell myself I don't care, a twinge of jealousy flutters in my stomach.  
America runs back up the stairs, smiling at me before turning around. I watch as she goes.  
"I want to show you something," Aspen tells me, swinging his arm over my shoulders. I turn to look at him. I can see what she sees in him. The dark hair and mysterious green eyes. He's like the perfect novel romantic interest.  
"What?" I reply, surprised at the bite in my voice. He just raises his eyebrows at my mini outburst.  
"Well, have you ridden the horses yet?" His smile stretches from ear to ear, reminding me of stretched taffy.  
"No," I reply, sourness still in my tone. I can't blame him for her obvious affections. Well I can but it would be unfair.  
"Let's go then. We'll consider it my birthday present to you. You can even take some photos of the horses," he babbles, turning me towards the doors. The first time I ever rode a horse was when I was eleven and I fell off breaking my arm. Now I'm not too keen to get on another one.

The horses turned out to be beautiful creatures and extremely photogenic. When I get home, I can sell some of these photos even though I won't be a registered Five anymore. It's hard to imagine not being a Five. All I've ever known is art and the Arts. It's what my whole family has been about for years.  
"You have to admit that was fun," Aspen says, swinging his long legs off of the horse and jumping to the ground. I smile and put my camera down.  
"Maybe." I let the camera hand on its strap around my neck. Even though I didn't want this present, I'm thankful that my family got it. The lens is much better than my last one and it is easier to hold.  
"We should do something tomorrow," Aspen suggests. He sounds hopeful that I'll say yes. I was planning on sulking all day tomorrow and pretending it isn't my birthday. "Like hunting or something manly like that." I laugh as he flexes his muscles lightly on the word 'manly'.  
"Sure, why not?" I say. If I come out of this with the short straw at least I'll have made a friend.  
We agree to meet one hour after breakfast and then break off at three in the afternoon because of some announcement America is planning on giving.  
Maybe being in the Selection as just America's friend isn't too bad.

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I run up to Silvia's office and lightly knock on the door. She told me to meet her in her office to discuss the progress for the party. I was productive, secretly sending around the invitations and masking it as an announcement, though I will have to make an announcement as well.  
"Come in," she calls in her perky voice. I quietly open the door and slip inside, closing the door shut behind me. She smiles up at me and holds up two different colors. They are both dark shades of blue.  
"Dark or darker," she asks. I bite my lip before pointing to the lighter of the two.  
"I handed out the invitations and so far he's clueless," I report. Silvia smiles and looks back down at her plans.  
"I organized live music, a piano player, photos, lights, catering and now I just have decorations and presents," she tells me. I screw up my nose at the mention of presents.  
"I don't think he's a fan of presents," I say, thinking of the camera he received this morning. Silvia sighs then crosses a few things off of her list.  
"That's fine, less for me to do." She sighs again before pulling a piece of paper from her clipboard.  
"Thank you for this Silvia." She looks up again and passes me the paper.  
"Everyone deserves their birthday to be celebrated. And don't tell anyone but Maxon doesn't seem like the kind of kid who gets much attention." I bite my lip. I never even noticed. He only talks about his siblings not his parents. Did they care for him?  
I look down at the paper she handed me. It has a list of names.  
"What's this for?" I ask. I see the names of the Selected boys but some of them I don't recognize at all.  
"Elimination." She stands up and points at the list. "If you see a name you don't recognize circle it. It will make it easier to eliminate people because if you don't know them what's the point in keeping them." She shrugs before sitting back down.  
I gulp before looking back down at the list.  
The condition to have this party was to make it an elimination.  
Some boys are sacrificing themselves unknowingly for a boy they barely know.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys. So many reviews. I'm so glad you guys are excited for this chapter. I'm sorry I couldn't get it out before this but I was busy and had a lot going on. But someone gave me the great idea to update on the 23** **rd** **which is Mr. Maxon's birthday so Happy Birthday Maxon.  
I love that you guys talk to me. I love hearing what you have to say and answering your questions. I won't be able to answer some questions because I don't want them out there. For the age question I'll tell you that I'm not yet finished high school (urgh!) but I don't really want my age floating around.  
Lord of Shadows tore me up as well. If you guys have any questions or just want to talk to me feel free to DM me via Instagram (fantastical_books), I will attempt to answer as quickly as possible but sometimes I get busy.  
Anyway on with the chapter.**

 **Chapter 13**

 **America's POV**

A new maid straightens my dress and places the few clips in my hair. I stand in front of a mirror, looking at my reflection. My auburn hair is half tied up with a series of braids and golden clips where the other half falls around my chest is red curls. My eyes are lined lightly with black and my lips are painted a deep shade of red, coordinating with the long gold dress that hands on my frame.  
I run my fingers over the shiny material. It's a shining gold color, tight around my abdomen then fans out wide around my legs.  
"You look lovely, Your Highness," the timid maid says. I smile at her through the mirror. She's wearing a pale pink dress and her light hair has been let out of the bun. The maids were asked to dance with some of the suitors because I can't be dancing with all of them at once.  
"Thank you, you look lovely as well." I turn, the dress spinning around my ankles. I turn to the maid, my grin spreading like the flu.  
"You are very talented," I comment, making her blush beetroot red. I move past her and towards the door. I pause with my hand brushing the doorhandle. "What's your name?" She refused to meet my eyes as she answers almost inaudibly.  
"Lucy."  
I smile and roll the name over my tongue before opening the door and slipping outside. 

I make my way down to the Great Hall, my ballet flats sliding against the marble floor as I race down. Maxon won't be down for another ten minutes but the rest of the boys, except Aspen, and guests are getting their early to check if everything is alright and to hide before his arrival.  
I walk around the massive room, checking up on the other suitors and guests, asking if everyone is okay. It's a big effort and by the time I finish making the rounds someone whisper shouts "Hide!"  
I crouch behind the massive piano on the stage, being careful not to bump it.  
And we wait

 **MAXON'S POV  
** I groan as the butler's hand me the suit I'm supposed to be wearing to go down the announcement. I haven't been able to fathom why I need to look like Prince Charming for an announcement but I allow them and the palace maids to come and fix up my appearance.  
I stare myself down in the mirror. My blonde hair has been swept away from my face but I notice one strand hanging wayward. The suit is a plain black with a bowtie making me look more like a fancy waiter.  
"Thanks guys," I say, suspicion lacing my tone. "I should be heading to the Great Hall. Don't want to be the last one there." A few of them make sounds in protest but my hand is already touching the doorhandle. I yell one last thank you before opening the door and stepping out.  
The air somehow seems fresher in the hallway even though it's the same air. Less hairspray fills my lungs and the smell of cheap perfume that the maids wear fades along with it.  
I walk down the stairs, nodding at each member of staff I pass, even when they give me looks of horror back. I furrow my brows, wondering why everyone is acting so weird today. Even the maids and butlers, who I've noticed are quite chatty, were silent.  
The sound of loud, thumping shoes hitting the marble flooring tickles my ears. I turn to see Aspen, also clad in a suit, his a light grey, walking towards me with a he grin covering his face.  
"Hey buddy," he calls, skipping a few steps to catch up with me. Seeing Aspen makes me wonder where the rest of the suitors are.  
"Where are the others?" I ask, not bothering to greet him. His green eyes shine with mischief and his lips are pursed like he's holding in a secret.  
"Maybe they're already there," he replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He grabs hold of my arm, pulling me along. "If we don't hurry we'll be seen as being tardy. Princes aren't tardy." I follow him, thinking about his comment.  
"What do you mean 'princes'?" I ask. He turns to look at me, mischief still filling his gaze. "We're only suitors." Aspen chuckles.  
"See, I know this my friend," he replies. He sounds crazy. His dark hair flops as he nods like a madman. "But if you want to find a way to a princess' heart you should act like a prince. If you act like one there will be no doubts in her mind that you will be a good one." He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my reaction.  
I prepared my answer to be a laugh or a look that implied he was crazy but what he was saying made sense. Act the part so no one has a doubt in their mind that you can play the part.  
"That's a clever strategy, Aspen." He smiles at the compliment. "I hope you're a good actor."  
I start to walk ahead of him and look up at the clock hanging on the wall. We're three minutes early. I lift my arm and knock on the door firmly, the sound echoing through the hallway.  
I hear a series of hushed whispers behind the closed door. I look back at Aspen who's staring at the door with a frustrated look on his face.  
Why is everyone acting so weird?  
I put my hand against the door and push both doors, revealing a dark room. I furrow my brows in confusion.  
Lights immediately turn on and a series of people jump up with grins on their face. Confetti canons go off somewhere, letting out small pieces of blue confetti. I grin as everyone yells 'Surprise'.  
My eyes find a pair of bright blue ones, the owner smiling and her gold dress shimmering. I give her a big grin before looking at the rest of the crowd and stepping into the room.  
Aspen clamps a hand on my shoulders. I look back to see him grinning from eye to eye.  
"Thank you," I call out. At my thanks, music blares through the speakers, sending everyone into giggles and dancing starting up. I make my way through, shaking hands with everyone and talking to them for a few seconds before moving on until a small figure comes up and pats me on the shoulder.  
I turn to America, my jaw almost dropping. She looks stunning in her floor length gold gown, her lips painted red and hair hanging out of the braids and pins. Her smile is brighter than the lights illuminating the room.  
"Happy Birthday, Maxon," she says, reaching up to give me a hug. Her thin arms reach up around my neck and on instinct my arms wrap around her waist. I hold her too me for a second too long but she doesn't pull away. I push her back, smiling down at her. Her cheeks are flushed though I saw them pale a few seconds ago.  
"I, um, I have something to show you," she tells me. Before I can reply, she takes hold of my hand and pulls me to the stage. She deposits me right in front of the stage, my knees almost touching the landing.  
She climbs up onto the stages clumsily and presses a button on a remote that pauses the music. A few angry shouts fill the room before they notice America standing up on the stage.  
"We're here tonight because of the birth of a fantastic human being," she says, her voice filled with emotion as she stands with her hands clasped in front of her. I can't believe how beautiful she looks tonight. "And that human being, Maxon Screave, is kind and loyal and I am so lucky to have him as a suitor in my Selection." I can feel my cheeks heating but I don't care. My smile has grown to the size of an ocean. "So I wrote this song for him because he's the one who taught me the glory of music." She smiles timidly before walking over to the grand piano and sitting down, patting her dress down as she does so.  
She begins.  
The music fills my ears. It is similar to Canon in D but has changes to it and contrasting sections that makes the song completely America. I close my eyes so I can only listen to the music. For only a beginner she's amazing. The song is smooth and clean. It's just plain beautiful.  
The song ends and a round of applause begins, whistles are heard throughout the crowd. I just smile at her. She was amazing and she should know it. And though a round of applause shows that she was good, sometimes a smile works just as well.

 **AMERICA'S POV**

After my song, I lose Maxon in the crowd. I want to ask him if he liked it, if there is anything to change. I get caught dancing with the suitors, my skin crawling with each hand I have to touch. I want to look into Maxon's eyes to know everything is okay.  
By the third or fourth dance, I start to enjoy the feeling of spinning around on the dance floor and try to ignore the skin to skin contact. I pretend I'm dancing alone in my room, with no one watching.  
"Your performance was wonderful," Aspen tells me when I begin my dance with him. I screw my nose up.  
"It was alright but it wasn't wonderful," I reply. I only wrote it yesterday and barely had time to practice.  
"What do you mean 'alright'. It was a performance worthy of the gods." He grins and twirls me. I've taken a liking to Aspen. His spirit is good and his energy is so fun to be around. He's just a great guy.  
"Okay," I say sarcastically. He laughs. His laugh is musical, better than any performance you can listen to. The song is upbeat so Aspen keeps spinning me and doing made up dance moves, acting like everyone knows what they are.  
"Can I dip you?" he asks towards the end of the song. I laugh to cover my shock at the question. Do I trust him to dip me? I nod with a wary expression on my face.  
He pulls me close, his expression serious but with passion hidden behind it.  
"Don't worry, Princess," he whispers, breath fanning my face, "I won't drop you."  
Then I feel him grab me by the waist and dip me so my head almost touches the ground. My hair tickles the floor, red striking against the pale marble.  
Aspen pulls me back up, my face flushed and eyes wide.  
"I told you," he says playfully, all seriousness gone from his expression. I giggle then let go of his hand. He smirks as he backs away into the crowd. I smile after him watching as he taps Lucy on the shoulder and asks her to dance. I spot Marlee in the crowd, dancing closely with a guard. I smile. She looks happy.  
I hear the music slow down and look around for a partner to dance with but find no one. I feel left out but relieved. Maybe my tingling feet will get a rest.  
A hand taps my shoulder. I turn and smile at the face.  
"May I have this dance?" Maxon asks formally. I giggle slightly before placing my hand in his outstretched one. I look over his shoulder and see my father and mother dancing together. They are standing feet apart with their arms awkwardly holding each other. They love each other so much but Father has always been less affectionate in front of a crowd and, most recently, me.  
"You didn't need to throw a party for me," Maxon whispers, pulling me close. We stand slightly closer than the other pairs on the dance floor, except for Marlee and her guard, they stand so close their chests almost touch. I smile mischievously up at Maxon.  
"How do you know I organized it?" I ask in a whisper. He raises his eyebrows and chuckles, his voice husky.  
"I know you America," he whispers back, pulling me a step closer. His tone sends a shiver through my spine. We're so close now but I don't want to move away. I feel the heat radiating off of his body, warming mine.  
I look at his lips for a brief moment before blushing and looking into his deep brown eyes, then blushing and looking past his shoulder.  
"I wanted you to have a good birthday," I reply. I see the corners of his mouth rise in my peripheral vision.  
"Well you've definitely achieved your goal." I place one of my hands that was around his neck on his chest and step forward so the only thing between us is my hand. He holds my waist tighter and his breathing quickens. I need to stop. If I don't stop I'll ruin the friendship we have.  
If I don't stop I know I'll want to kiss him.  
The song finishes and I pull away from him a second too late. Before we part he whispers in my ear.  
"If I tug my ear it means I want to see you. It's a friendship code." He pushes through the crowd after that leaving me standing with my heart sinking at his words.  
 _Friendship code._

I spend the rest of the night dancing with different suitors, guests and guards, forgetting myself and having fun. I catch Maxon's eye as I'm dancing with Marlee's guard. I read off of his badge. _Officer Woodwork._  
"So you're the guard who's been hogging Marlee's attention all night," I say playfully. He smirks and looks back at Marlee who's having a rest by the drinks table. She looks gorgeous in the pale green dress and her hair let loose.  
"And you are the princess that has befriended young Marlee," he shoots back. I smile.  
"You don't seem too much older than Marlee yourself," I tell him. In truth he looks about twenty-four where Marlee is around eighteen.  
"Ah but much wiser you see." He taps his head twice making me laugh.  
"You're funny," I tell him. I look back at Maxon to see him dancing with a blonde maid. He looks over at me and briefly tugs his ear.  
He's using this code quickly.  
I don't talk to Officer Woodwork for the rest of the night but he's the only guard who had the guts to talk and joke with me.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I can't focus on anything but America. Not even as I'm dancing with Kriss and she's reminding me of all of my birthday parties and birthdays in the past.  
I don't know why I told America about the ear tugging thing. I just needed a way to communicate with her when we weren't in close talking distance. She's taken me over like the plague. But in a good way.  
The party comes to an end at eleven and everyone makes their way back up to their rooms. I pace around mine for ten minutes.  
I know America saw me tug my ear. I know she knows what it means. So, if she doesn't come I know she doesn't want to. If she doesn't want to I will leave in the morning. I can't stand to be at the palace with my feelings sweeping me up like a storm and pretend not to feel anything.  
The hairspray has worn out of my hair leaving it splayed across my forehead messily.  
A soft knock sounds on the door and I almost run to answer it.  
America stands there, her hands folded in front of her, a miserable expression on her face. She walks in and I close the door behind her. Her hair is less put together than it was at the start of the party and her face is red from all the dancing. She still looks stunning.  
"What's wrong?" I ask, following her as she walks to the bed to sit down. She looks over the photos I finally decided to put on the wall before turning to me.  
"To have this party I had to agree to eliminate three people and that's what I just did," she answers miserably. I sit down beside her, not too close but close enough that our shoulders brush, and put a hand on the small of her back.  
"I'm sorry you had to do that." She laughs without humor.  
"That's not even it." She sighs. "It sucks having to send someone home but all I could think about while I was doing that was that I was leaving you waiting. And it sucked" I suck in a breath but she continues. "And do you know what else sucks?" She doesn't wait for a reply. "That I had one dance with you when I'd planned at least ten. And then when I thought you were going to ask for another you said something about friendship." She breathes shallowly, as if she's holding back tears. I breathe just as wildly. What she's saying expresses everything I'm feeling, everything I wanted to say. "I know I said we would only be friend but I don't know what that means anymore-"  
I cut her off, pressing my lips lightly to hers. Her lips are soft and taste like strawberries. She doesn't kiss back for a moment, surprised at my abruptness, then touches her hand softly to my cheek and kisses back.  
She pulls back after a second. I cup her cheek with my hand, her skin hot to the touch. She smiles lightly before moving her head and kissing my palm tenderly as I did that day in the gardens.  
She smiles again before pushing off the bed and walking towards the door. She doesn't wait for a goodbye as she walks away, me watching after her like a lost puppy.  
I just kissed the princess.

 **GUYS! So how did you like it. It is so late and I stayed up to write this chapter because during the afternoon I was busy playing ukulele. So now it's like half past ten and I have school tomorrow. Fun! (just kidding)  
Anyways I just gave you a massive chapter (for my standards) and a massive Maxmerica so I hope you are satisfied. Happy Birthday Maxon again!  
And I will see you guys next chapter (well I won't see you but like you know what I mean)**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm so so so so so sorry. I haven't updated in like a month. To be completely honest it has a lot t do with school and my own personal life. But I am truly sorry. Another factor has definitely been writing slump. I have no clue what to do with this chapter so I am sorry if it is really bad.**

 **Here goes…**

 **Chapter 14**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I don't know why my hands are shaking as I walk into the dining room but they refuse to still. I keep my eyes down, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. I carefully take my seat beside Maxon, refusing to even look at him.  
Why am I so ashamed? It was only a kiss. It's not like anyone will know except Maxon. I look up at the food that has been placed on the table and gather some of the strawberry tarts onto my plate. I eat them slowly, savouring the sweet taste.  
The boys' chatter fills my hearing. Someone received a letter from their parents, someone else used to do horseback riding when they were a kid. Even though I'm not a part of these conversations, I feel like I am by how freely they talk, how they include everyone into their stories.  
"Enjoying the tarts?" a voice by my side asks. I quickly put the tart I was devouring down and look up at Maxon. He has a smirk on his spotless face. He reaches forward and brushes a spot of jam off my face. I can feel my face heating up at the small gesture and the fact that I had food on my face.  
"Thanks," I say bashfully. I look around at the other suitors. Aspen is staring at us with a strange expression that he quickly removes when he sees my gaze has rested on him.  
"I have a friend back in Carolina," he begins to say across the table to me. "She loves sweets so much. Sometimes when I have some extra coin I'll buy her a bag of sweets and she will simply die with happiness. She would adore the tarts." I smile. She sounds a bit like me. Ever since I was young I would sneak treats from the kitchens then proceed to be caught by the chef who would then sneak me a few more as she was scolding me.  
"Really?" I ask raising my eyebrows. His smile widens, glad the attention has moved to him.  
"Yeah, if she even tasted one of the tarts she would most probably cry." I can feel my cheeks lifting.  
"Would you be willing to bet on it?" Maxon asks beside me. I look up at him, surprised. I didn't know he was listening. A few other heads bob up, now intrigued by the idea of gamble. I look beside me and even my parents are listening. Mother has an interested look on her face where Father just looks confused and slightly angry.  
"I don't have any money," Aspen admits, his head dropping a bit. Maxon chuckles.  
"I don't have any either. I was offering something different." Maxon looks down at me. At his look I'm a bit worried about what he will offer.  
"If you lose you will have to sleep in the hallway," Maxon tells him. Really I think he's telling everyone because chuckles break out and a few whispers begin. Aspen's face pales. He can't lock himself away in the hallway and there's no bed. I smirk, Maxon isn't being fair. Maxon opens his mouth again to probably offer a simplistic prize but I get in first.  
"If you win I will take you out on a date of your choice." Aspen's face lights up and I look at Maxon who looks astonished but amused. I barely notice with all the chuckles and distractions when Maxon lifts his hand and gentle tugs at his ear.  
I blush bright red as I turn away from him and back to the tarts. Then I remember our my deal with Aspen. I call over a butler.  
"Could you pack some of my bags with a dozen strawberry tarts?" I ask. "And could you organize a car for tomorrow with a few maids and guards?" He nods and walks away to do what I asked.  
I see my mother looking at me in shock and my father with disapproval. I shrug.  
"I want to judge for myself." I finish off my strawberry tarts, occasionally giving my input in a conversation but all I can think about is Maxon's ear tug and that I'm going to Carolina tomorrow.  
I've travelled around a lot with my family but we've never really made an effort to visit the other provinces.  
Soon everyone is leaving the table. I can feel Maxon still sitting beside me through all of this and carefully put a mango on my plate and begin to chew the juicy fruit despite my full stomach. I watch carefully as everyone leaves. Aspen is the last to go before Maxon. He stays for a while watching both of us eat our fruit slowly. He doesn't eat anything then leaves abruptly. I look to Maxon and smile lightly.  
"Do you think that mango can wait?" he asks. I smile and throw it back onto my plate with a sigh.  
"I found a secret place in the gardens that I want to show you," he explains. I raise my eyebrows in question as I stand up and push in my chair. He grabs my hand and swiftly pulls me out to the gardens.  
I giggle as he pulls me along in a quick pace.  
"What are we doing?" I laugh. He looks back at me and smirks.  
He guides me towards a bunch of bushes. He puts a finger to his lips before moving apart the branches revealing a small, clear area. He gestures for me to enter first. I giggle and step into the enclosed area. Maxon follows close behind me.  
There is barely enough room for both of us but we fit, our limbs touching. He smirks and then I realize that this might have been a bad idea. It's so far past the guards that they might not hear if he rapes me and no one will be able to see through the leaves. How could I be so stupid? I begin to squirm and my hands begin shaking. Maxon notices and takes my cool hands in his warm ones. I've never noticed how nice Maxon's hands feel. They're rough and calloused but always warm and never sweating or overly hot. This gesture calms me.  
"Are you okay?" he asks. I know he knows I'm not but I still lie.  
"Yeah, I was just trying to get comfortable," I say softly. I pull my hands away and pretend to be interested in a leaf. I don't look a Maxon but I can tell his eyes are trained on me. I feel so distant and I know I made the gap between us myself.  
"What's y0ur favourite thing to do?" he asks. I look over to him and answer immediately.  
"Sing. I'm not very good though." He smiles gently. I watch to touch his lips with my fingers.  
"Can you sing for me?" he asks. Usually I would decline, be too embarrassed or scared but I carefully nod before starting to sing a song that I heard the chefs singing once.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I've never heard anything so lovely. Her voice rises and falls with the lyrics I'm unfamiliar with. She closes her eyes as the melody flows from her lips. She looks peaceful, so different to how she looked just minutes ago. I don't imagine she has much time to sing at the palace.  
She finishes the last lyric then her eyes open slowly. I'm smiling so widely I fear that tears will start falling from my eyes.  
"That was amazing," I say, breathless. She blushes.  
"How did you find this place?" she asks after a minute of silence. She is still picking at the leaves on the branches.  
"I was hiding from Aspen," Maxon admits. "He wanted to ask me countless questions about a ball I had when I was a kid. It was weird." The ball had in fact been my favourite but now it's lost in all of my sisters' toys.  
"It's small," she says simply. I make a reach for her hands again. She doesn't pull away but doesn't look at me either. I brush my lips over her knuckles. She stiffens but doesn't pull away.  
"I'm not going to ask why you are afraid of me but I want you to know that you don't have to be," I tell her. She stares off for a minute before turning towards me with tears shining in her eyes.  
"Just because you know something won't hurt you doesn't mean that you won't be afraid." A tear falls onto her cheek. "It's like when people are afraid to go to sleep. Some of them know nothing will happen but they still can't do it." 

**Sorry this chapter isn't as amazing as you guys were probably hoping but I have recently been sick and I have work today so I'm not in the best mood. Hope you enjoyed this sort of filler chapter anyways.  
I'm going to watch **_**American Assassin**_ **with my sister tomorrow (you know the new movie with Dylan O'brien in it). It doesn't look like a kind of movie I'll enjoy but I'm still going because she promised we would go to the markets as well. So I'm pretty keen about the markets. They sell really cute fandom jewellery at some stalls so I'm excited.  
Anyways I'm babbling.  
Enjoy your weekend and this chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Guys! I feel like I say sorry a lot but I truly am. I was going to update but then my brother broke my laptop which sucks but oh well. So I'm here now and I am writing this new chapter for you guys.**

 **Don't forget to comment!**

 **Chapter 15**

 **AMERICA's POV**

I keep my eyes shut as Marlee braids my hair back. Her touch is soft and gentle, never pulling too hard or letting any strands fall.  
"We've been talking a lot about your little suitors in the kitchens, when I'm down there," she begins cautiously. I open my eyes and groan.  
"Please not today," I beg her. "I already had to let go four of them just the other day." She sighs.  
"Okay but I will get you to talk about your feelings one day, Princess." She giggles at the title. We've become so casual with each other sometimes I forget that I am royalty. I run my hands over the blue day dress that hugs my frame. It's sweet and simple, making me look more innocent and dainty than I really am.  
"Government members from Italy and the German Federation will be visiting soon," I tell her, swiftly changing topics. Their visit has been talked about a few times but it wasn't until a few days ago that I was told they'd be visiting next week. I haven't met the members of the Italian government too many times. They refuse to create an alliance with Illea and though we need their alliance greatly meetings are never organized.  
"Who's planning their visit?" Marlee asks, getting further down the length of my hair. I desperately need a haircut with my fiery hair almost reaching my waist but I've been procrastinating.  
"My mother and I are supposed to be working with Silvia for it but we haven't had too much time." For the past week mother has been sick and I've been busy playing the Bachelorette. I've also been breaking hearts by sending three of my contestants home without a second glance. The pressure to eliminate more and more suitors has been breathing down my neck. I feel like I can't turn a corner without someone giving me a look to tell me to hurry up and choose.  
"Well if none of you can find the time why don't you make it some sort of challenge," Marlee says, tying my hair off. I pull the braid over my shoulder and tease the end of it.  
"What do you mean?" I ask, not quite understanding what she's saying. She laughs.  
"Make the boys sort it out and whoever doesn't do a good job gets eliminated or whatever," she explains, turning my chair to face her. Her smile lights up her face. "If they can't organize a party then they obviously can't control a country so separate them into two groups. They'll plan the welcoming party and any activities the visitors do. Silvia will judge closely and if a group completely destroys it then they leave." She raises her eyebrows. Her idea is good. It gets rid of half of the suitors and takes a load of work off of my shoulders.  
"What if I don't want them to go?" I ask, Maxon and Aspen's faces coming to mind. She smirks.  
"It's your Selection and if you don't want them to leave keep them." I know she knows who I'm thinking of too. I take her hand in mine.  
"Thank you, Marlee." I let her hand go and stand up. "I need you to get a message to the boys to meet me in the Great Hall in half an hour." She nods, excitement in her eyes. Anyone watching would find this little obstacle exciting but I can feel goosebumps rising along my skin.  
Now I just need to find Silvia.

 **MAXON'S POV  
** I move my chess piece, laughing as Aspen takes in my move. The rest of the boys either surround our chessboard or keep themselves busy by the action movie on the television. Aspen flicks my piece over with a glum expression on his face.  
"How did you get so good?" he asks. I shrug, my chuckle filling the entire room. Aspen begins to smirk but pauses when a knock sounds on the door. A boy names Jackson goes over to answer it.  
Marlee stands in the doorway with a broad smile stretching from cheek to cheek. She looks radiant despite the drab maids clothes. Her golden hair is pulled back into a bun but she's found a way to tie a braid into the bun.  
"Her Highness requires all of you in the Great Room in approximately 10 minutes," she says loud enough for everyone to hear. I stand from my seat. What could America want with us. She isn't planning on taking us all out on a date, is she? No, she wouldn't. It's unreasonable. There are too many of us and too little of her. Chuckles fill the room as my face flushes beetroot red. I push past the rest of the boys out of the door. Aspen follows close behind and the rest of the boys behind him.  
We all file into the Great Room standing in a clump in front of a chair in the centre of the room. America is nowhere to be seen. We all exchange confused glances. It's a few minutes later that Silvia enters with America at her heels. She looks gorgeous in the light blue dress that hits her knees and her hair pulled back into a simple braid. She looks nervous and I wonder what she's doing. Is she going to reveal that she's actually not attracted to men, that she's pregnant?  
Silvia lifts and leg up and stands atop of the chair. America stands beside her, looking up watching Silvia with a cautious gaze.  
"Boys, boys, boys," Silvia begins. She smiles at us with her teeth. It doesn't exactly make me feel uncomfortable but more like we're about to be reprimanded. "You've probably heard of the upcoming visit from our neighbouring countries and it has been decided that instead of having this merely a fun visit, it will become a challenge to you guys." Confused looks spread around the room. I furrow my own brows and run a hand through my hair. Silvia smiles down at America before continuing.  
"We will be splitting you into two groups. One for the German Federation and the other for Italy. It will be your job to plan their welcoming party and any special events that you wish them to take part in." America finds my gaze through the sea of heads and gives me a tiny thumbs up.  
Does Silvia mean that we'll become party planners for a week? She can't mean that. Everyone knows that she's organizing the visit. "You'll all be given sheets with anything important to mention about the countries but it's up to you what colors, music, games you choose. These decisions could make or break you." A few shouts of protest spread through the room while her message is still processing in my brain.  
America stands on her toes to whisper in Silvia's ear, her face going pale and Silvia's smile widening.  
"I almost forgot," she announces, with a cheery voice. "The winning team stays in the competition and the losing team goes home so when I say it could make or break you, I mean it."

 **AMERICA'S POV**

When I left the Great Hall, shortly after the announcement, protests were filling the space. I knew the boys wouldn't want to play party planner, they're too 'masculine' for that. But what Marlee said is true. If they can't plan a party then they certainly can't run a country.  
I fiddle with the end of my braid, teasing the hair. My lip sits firmly between my teeth as I think about my decision. I know all of those boys in there at least a little bit now. Without realizing I could name them all and even remember some insignificant thing they said during a conversation. Sebastian is a three with eight siblings. Johan likes to bake though his dad scolds him for it and Johnny secretly finds the horses intimidating. It will be devastating watching them go.  
I stand up and rub my sweaty palms against the blue fabric. I can't even think about Maxon leaving. What will I do without my friend who may not be a friend anymore. My friend that I've kissed and didn't regret doing it. I feel my cheeks heating up at the thought of the kiss. I shake my head furiously and rub my hands one last time on my dress before raising my hand to knock on the large wooden door. The door opens with a creak revealing my worst nightmare standing in a robe.  
"Ah the whore princess has finally arrived," my father says, opening the door wider to let me in. I take a deep breath, pushing away my fear and preparing myself for the worst.

 **How did you like it? I know it's not the best chapter but I have so much going on right now and this fanfiction really hasn't been my number one priority. But I have put a few foundations down I think for the next chapter which I am planning on writing on my day off which is Saturday so it may be up on Saturday maybe Sunday but please do not take my word for it. I feel like I'm always making excuses for myself but really if I want to stay sane I need to look after myself properly.  
But anyways bye I love all of your support and I hope you stay tuned for the next chapter! (Sorry for the absolutely horrendous writing by the way. I can't even go back and read it because I know it's going to make me cry)**


	16. Chapter 16

**I only just realized, about to publish chapter 17 that I did not publish this chapter. Last week when I thought I published it I was talking about how I thought I published it a month before so this chapter is really unlucky in the publishing instance. Anyways onto the chapter (BTW you have two chapters to look forward to today)**

 **Chapter 16**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

My hands are shaking as I wake up, my body sprawled over his bare chest. I can see each individual, dark hair that marks it. I sit up slowly, bringing the blanket up with me to cover my bare chest. My father stirs but doesn't wake up.  
I quietly slip out of the bed and slip my dress from yesterday back over my body. It's a difficult task because I'm shaking so much.  
He went further with me yesterday.  
He didn't take it the full way and kept his own pants on, but I slept bare. I try to forget his touch on my body, but I know the prints he's left are engraved in my memory.  
I make my way over to the door quickly and quietly, my shoes held in my hands. Once I'm out of his room I race to my own. I've gotten used to escaping his room without notice over the years.  
Sweat beads on my forehead and I push the door closed behind me. I look around for someone but no one seems to be in the room. I take a big gulp before letting the tears fall onto my cheeks. They heat my freezing cold cheeks. My chest rises and falls quickly and my hands are shaking worse than ever.  
I sink onto the floor and let my head fall into my hands. I know that breakfast is soon but I don't know if I can move from this place on the floor.  
Minutes tick by and then hours. People knock on the door and try to open it but I block it with my body lying on the ground.  
By mid-afternoon I hear soft murmurs outside of my door. I can recognise the voices as my mom and dad's. I shudder at his voice.  
"This is inappropriate, Amberley," he tells her in a harsh whisper. "She is behaving like a disobedient child for no reason." I want to run out and scream at him. Say that I have every reason to be acting like this. I want everyone to know my pain. I don't want to bear it alone anymore.  
"She's probably just ill," my mother says in a soothing tone. I hear her sigh. "She could be nervous for the visit."  
I hear my father scoff. The sounds coming from his mouth make me want to hide away and never reveal myself.  
"She's probably ill because your whole family are a bunch of invalids," he hisses. I hear a crack and something falling to the ground.  
My mother whimpers once. Twice.  
"That will leave a harsh mark if you don't get some ice on it," he tells her. I hear my mother whimper once more and then scamper off. She's been dismissed.  
I let out a cry before he starts bashing open the door. The wood hits my back causing me to cry out. It isn't loud but anyone passing could have heard it.  
"Stop it you little bitch," he hisses through the small crack he's made between the door and the frame. My body is still effectively blocking any access.  
Though my whole body aches and shakes, I use every ounce of strength left in my body to push the door back closed. It's hard because my father is both strong and heavy but it works. I breathe a sigh of relief before he hisses against the wooden door.  
"You won't escape me forever you little slut."  
I don't sleep that night. And in the morning, I've made a decision that will keep me safe from him for a few days.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I sit waiting eagerly at the breakfast table. It was a drab day yesterday. America was on bed rest with a migraine and Aspen was busy the whole day. I spent the day writing to my family, telling them about America and the challenge. My group's strategy was to split in half and work on our own things. So Aspen, Johnny, Keran, Eric, Louis, James, Michael, Corden, Kile, Twan, Ian and I have all been organizing the music and food. But yesterday was an off day.  
I spent a lot of the day thinking about America's bet with Aspen. As far as I know she hasn't left for Carolina just yet.  
Today I sit with Aspen talking about some savory snack that the Italians apparently love. Keran comes over and sits to my right.  
"I hate this idea," he complains. Aspen and I laugh even though we both wish he would go back to Eric and organize the music. We have less than a week to prepare it and next to no help from Silvia.  
As soon as Keran stands to leave the door opens.  
America stands in the doorway. Around her eyes makeup has been uselessly used to cover up the dark circles that sleepless nights have left behind.  
"Hello," she greets, her usual song-like voice rasping. "As you all witnessed, I made a bet with Aspen a week or so ago. Today I'm leaving to see if Aspen's friend does in fact cry at the taste of the strawberry tarts. My departure was meant to be the next day but because of set backs I decided I would leave while you are all distracted and I hope you do not mind." She smiles weakly at us all. I can tell it's more than that but she ignores my questioning gaze. "I should be back in a few days." With that she turns and leaves the room.  
I want to run after her but everyone will see. Instead I wait an hour before claiming illness and walk up to the third floor. We're not supposed to go up where the royal family's rooms are so I try to be quiet and not catch anyone's attention. I'm almost at her door when someone's whisper stops me.  
"What are you doing, Maxon?" I turn to see Kriss standing with a vacuum held lazily in her right hand. It looks so normal it's weird.  
"I wanted to talk to the King about something," I lie smoothly. Her eyebrows crease and I know she doesn't believe me.  
"I've been wanting to talk to you," she whispers, stepping closer and closer. "Can you meet me in the closet room later?" I pause, I want to say no so badly but I don't want to lose her as a friend.  
"Sure I'll meet you there but you have to go right now before you get caught." She smiles broadly and jumps forward planting a kiss on my cheek.  
"See you there."  
I want to be as excited as she is but I can't stop thinking about America and how she's leaving even if it's only for a few days.  
Kriss runs away quickly down the hall and I walk straight to America's door. I knock three times and open the door when I receive no reply.  
She's sitting on her bed, sobs shaking her whole body.  
"America?" I ask, rushing towards her. I barely notice the blood staining her blue dress.  
She turns slowly, wincing as she does so. Her face is red and her eyes are puffy. She looks a mess. Her hands are shaking as she sobs uncontrollably. I place my hand on the small of her back causing her to hiss in pain.  
It's the most terrifying sound I've ever heard in my life.

I pull my hand back quickly and that's when I receive the full effect of her back. Blood has soaked the whole back of her dress turning it crimson. She shies away, realizing what I'm looking at.  
"America," I say cautiously, reaching out to her. She's up in a second, getting as far away from me as possible.  
"It's nothing, I hit my back a sharp rock when I was walking through the gardens," she says quickly. Her eyes are watery and the dark circles more pronounced than ever.  
I take slow steps towards her. I know she won't move. She can't without causing herself more pain. Her lip wobbles.  
I put both of my hands on her shoulders, causing her to flinch. I pull back. Someone has done this to her. A male.  
"Who did this?" I ask in a soft voice. She shudders. I reach out instinctively to hold her up but she grimaces.  
"No one," she replies stubbornly. I sigh and sit down on her bed. I know she must be leaving soon but I also know that she would never leave in this state.  
I'm about to ask her again when a loud, persistent ringing sounds.  
We're under attack.

 **Are you guys as riled up as me. I am working hard on the next chapter (well I haven't started it yet except for writing what chapter it is, but that's okay) and I hope to have it up, I'm going to say by tomorrow night (which is probably day for most of you) but don't take my word for it because it may actually be in three months when you receive this next chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17

**I have news that I don't know if I told you but, I have started to write a book of my own. If you follow me on Instagram (fantastical_books) you would already know this. I am only a little bit in but it's really exciting. But writing this reminds me that I have to save it onto my USB in case my laptop breaks again. So anyway, hope you guys are having lots of great times and hope you really enjoyed this chapter.**

 **CHAPTER 17**

 **MAXON**

I don't think; I act.  
It takes me only seconds to pull America up from her position on the floor. I try to be gently with her fragile body but being in a rush puts a pressure on me to act fast, giving no time for careful movements. I suggest carrying her but she insists she is fine and the stubborn look on her face agrees.  
I keep hold of her hand as we run out of her bedroom and down the hall. All I can hear is gunfire and screams.  
"Where are we supposed to go?" I yell back at America over the cloud of noise.  
"Downstairs there is a door- it's the royal escape room," she replies, breathless. I nod and start moving faster. I can hear America's whimpers but we don't have time. If a rebel came bounding around the corner any second she wouldn't have the strength to quickly run away and, with the wounds on her back, the grazing of a bullet could very well send her to the grave.  
Those thoughts remind me of her wellbeing.  
"Are you all right?" I call back to her. I receive no response.  
Panicking, I twirl around to see America, breathless and pale. The blood that used to just cover the back of her dress has spread to her chest. She looks awful.  
I stop and move towards her. She whimpers and flinches away but doesn't move more than that.  
"Is there anywhere we can go that might be closer?" I ask. A single tear races down her cheek. She runs her hands through her hair as she thinks.  
"Down the hall. It's a spare just in case a servant is rushing to get to safety," she replies speaking quickly. My body reacts before my mind and I heave her up in my arms. She's as light as a paper weight.  
We reach the room and she quickly taps in the passcode, hands shaking like a madman's.  
"You're going to be fine," I assure her as I cradle her against my chest. She sobs as I rush us into the safe room and let the door shut behind us.  
A single bed is placed against a wall. I place America gently on the bed, wincing as she cries out in pain. I flip her over on her chest before moving towards the supplies. We have a medical kit, food rations, a blanket, pillow and water bottles. There is enough food down here to feed a single person for years.  
"Maxon," America murmurs, snatching my attention. I'm at the bed in an instant, holding her hand.  
"It hurts," she breathes, letting tears flow freely down her face. Her eyes are red and swollen giving her a helpless look. I smile and look deep into her ocean blue eyes.  
"The pain is going to go away." I'm lying and she knows it but she just nods sleepily. The pain she is feeling is not skin deep. I take a few seconds to wonder who's been doing this to her and for how long. It's obvious that it's the first time it's ever drawn blood but could she have been abused in other ways?  
I shake my head and stand to walk over to the medical kit. It's a metal box with small latches holding it closed. Inside there's bandages, some type of cream and pain killers. I pull the bandages out first knowing she'll need to stop the blood flow and then pull out the cream. It has no ingredients or instructions, but I assume it is some type of salve for burns and cuts. I close the medical kit deciding the pain killers can be brought out later.  
I walk back towards America. She flinches at the sound of my heavy footsteps.  
"I need to look at the wounds to help," I say softly, touching the nape of her neck. She takes in a sharp breath understanding what it means. "I won't do it if you are uncomfortable." She nods slowly.  
"Do it," she chokes out. I feel a pang of guilt. She's so helpless and afraid.  
"I won't hurt you," I promise. The tension in her body doesn't release.  
I put the bandages and container of cream down on the floor beside the bed before I reach for the buttons on the back of her dress.  
I imagined this situation so much different. I wanted it to be special, a moment of trust not life or death.

 **AMERICA**

I try not to scream as Maxon reaches for the buttons on the back of my blood-soaked dress. The tears have dried on my face and my hands have begun to stop shaking.  
He starts on the first one, almost breaking it off of the material. He swears before moving down to the next button.  
"Damn buttons," he curses. I laugh to distract myself.  
"Never had experience with buttons?" I ask as a joke. I hear him straighten and take in a breath.  
"Never had the chance. There was one girl that probably wanted me to but I was waiting for the right one," he replies, voice shaky as he unhooks the second button. The material slips away from my body, revealing the slip beneath. I hear Maxon gasp as he takes in the scarlet colour my slip must have turned. I want to cry in shame. I don't want him to see me like this.  
He freezes, waiting for a direction to continue. I nod slightly, gulping. He'll have to take off the slip as well to bandage the cuts.  
"Who did this to you?" he asks as he continues down my back with extra care. I hesitate to answer. What would Maxon do if he found out? Would he do anything? What would I do if he does? What if he doesn't?  
"My father," I choke out. It's like I'm breathing for the first time. "My father did this," I repeat in case he didn't hear.  
I feel him stiffen in anger.  
"How long?" he spits out, anger lacing his tone. I shiver as I feel him begin to lift the sheer slip off my body. His hands are swift an efficient, being careful to not rub material against my back.  
I thank the heavens that I decided to wear a bra underneath the slip today.  
I hear him let out a sigh of relief and a wave a doubt rushes through me. Is he glad that he won't see me? Does he feel disgusted by my body?  
I keep in the tears that want to leave my eyes.  
"I'm going to put some of this cream on your back and then put the bandages around it," he says almost like he's asking. I nod and push my face into the bed.  
He applies the cream with a soft touch, rubbing it into the cuts. I moan in pleasure as it erases the stinging pain all over my back. Maxon laughs behind me.  
"Does it feel better?" he asks. I turn my head slightly, putting it into an awkward position to see his face. His brows are tight with concern but his mouth is smiling lightly. I want to reach out and smooth the worry in his expression, take away the pain.  
"Much," I reply, giving another moan of pleasure. An awkward silence follows as Maxon stops rubbing and puts the container of cream away. I hear him move around to get the bandages.  
"This is the first time he's done this," I whisper, wanting to get it out. Maxon stops moving.  
"I don't believe that," he says back. I shake my head, wanting him to understand but not wanting to tell him outright.  
"I'm not saying he's never hurt me," I clarify with a sigh. "He's just never whipped me before." I twist my head at that awkward angle again to watch as it sinks in. His lip curls and his fists close around the bandage. "He's been abusing me for a while. Ever since I receive the parts he was interested in." My voice wavers but I have to tell someone. "He doesn't see me as his daughter, he sees me as the adopted thing I am." The ball in my throat grows the size of a tennis ball, making it harder to get the next line out. "He did this because I am going on the trip to get away from him." I shiver remembering the feel of the whip cracking against my back and my father's raging temper.  
"You have to say something," Maxon tells me. He places the beginning of the bandage on my back and begins to move it across. Once he gets to the edge I stop breathing.  
Maxon places his hand under my stomach, his hand touching my bare skin, and he pulls the bandage in afterwards. I can feel my face heat as he wraps the bandage around my torso.  
When he's finished I sit up, wincing as I do so. Maxon has his back turned to my, washing my blood off his hands.  
"I can't do anything about it," I say, replying to his previous comment. "He'll do much worse to me if it slips." I take a deep breath as Maxon's hands tighten around the basin. "Don't you think I would have told someone if I'd hadn't thought he'd kill me for it?" Maxon makes an impatient noise and turns around.  
"No," he answers shortly. "People don't tell when their family member is hurting them because there seems to be some rule that you can't dob in family members. So no, I do not think you would have turned your father in even if you thought you'd be safe."  
"You don't know anything about me," I hiss back, crossing my arms over my chest which sends a rippling pain through my back. I hiss in pain.  
Maxon twirls around, forgetting about our little dispute and sits on the edge of the bed, his leg less than an inch away from mine.  
"Where does it hurt?" Maxon asks, frantically searching my eyes for some kind of sign. His chocolate brown eyes pull me in, stealing my gaze. I look down to his full lips, craving the heat they provide, forgetting about the searing pain in my back.  
I touch my lips to his, taking him by surprise. He makes a sound in protest and begins to pull away but I pull him closer, bringing his body right against mine. After a second of hesitation, his hands twist into my auburn hair.  
Any pain I was feel disappears as I touch my hands lightly to his face and pull him down so that he's hovering over me. He pulls away quickly to smile at me. He runs his hands over my bare stomach before proceeding to plant kisses down my abdomen. He stops at my navel and brings his lips to my neck, pulling all sorts of sounds from my mouth. I pull at the bottom of his shirt, ripping it right off of his body. He doesn't object as I run my hands over the structured planes of his stomach.  
I know we're going too far but I can't stop myself.  
My hands reach for his back and he freezes.  
He's backing away from me in a matter of seconds, a horrified look upon his face.  
"Maxon," I murmur. He looks at me with crazed eyes. I stand up slowly but the pain still rips through me. Maxon reaches forward as I to help me but stops himself.  
"Stay on the bed, America," he warns. He looks around frantically, searching for something.  
"No, something's on your back," I say, persistent. Before thinking about the pain I'll be subjected to, I run around Maxon and stare in shock at his back. My vision is spotted from the pain but I can still see the crisscrossed scars on Maxon's back. They don't look fresh.  
In a haze of delirium, I whisper, "We're the same now."  
The black dots take over afterwards and send me into a deep, unwanted sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

A hand brushes over my face, waking me from the deep sleep I fell into. I startle awake, sitting upright. The sudden motion causes my vision to go blurry and my hand to fall back down to my side. _Stay awake._ I tell myself.  
I look around, seeing my room instead of the plain walls of the escape room. _The threat is over._  
My eyes widen before I look at the person sitting beside me on the bed.  
My mom smiles down at me, a faint blush painting her cheeks.  
"Morning," she says, her voice smooth and calm. I squint my eyes as she takes my cool hand in her warm one. "We found you in one of the service escape rooms with one of the boys." A hint of suspicion laces her tone but I ignore it.  
"Yeah," I reply slowly fighting to remember last night. I remember Dad whipping me, making me bleed and the alarms going off. Maxon came to talk to me and took me to the escape room. I realize there are so many details that should be avoided in this story. I look down at my clothes, the bloody dress changed for a pale pink nightgown.  
"The boy said that you changed last night because a guard collapsed onto you. He said blood got all over your dress," Mom explains. I nod slowly. Maxon put on whatever he could find and threw away the dress, I'm guessing.  
"I was feeling ill and couldn't make it the whole way," I tell her, hoping it doesn't ruin Maxon's story that he no doubt made up.  
"Yes, the boy said something like that," she replies.  
"Maxon," I correct her without thinking. She laughs, pushing my shoulders lightly to get my lying down again. "What are you doing?" I ask panicked, pushing back her hands violently.  
"Calm down," she says just as calm as before. "You need to rest. _Maxon_ told the guards that you blacked out from the shock of the attack." She raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to deny it. She knows that Maxon lied but she's letting him.  
"I want to thank him," I whine, not replying to her silent request. "He saved my life." Mom nods, fingering the patterns on the bedsheets.  
"I knew you would say that. You are just like your surrogate," she states affectionately.  
"I want to see him," I repeat, more firm and commanding. She chuckles.  
"I'll get Lucy to get you ready. If you have enough energy to see Maxon then you can come to lunch," she tells me. I glare at her as she leaves my room with grace.  
Once the door shuts I let out a sigh and fall back against the bed.  
It's going to be a long day.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I file into the dining room with the rest of the suitors. I couldn't focus on the task this morning. I could only think of America.  
It was a few hours after she passed out that they found us. She wasn't in any shape to be up and around the palace, as I'd told the guards this morning. They seemed to believe the elaborate lie I made up but I doubted the King would buy it. I avoided his gaze all through breakfast, hoping he wouldn't threaten me or my family. He had to know I knew.  
I take my usual place beside Aspen. He smirks at me.  
"I heard about your night last night," he whispers. I shake my head. Of course he'd heard. Everyone would know by now. Johan and Sebastian walked past while I carried America out of the room.  
I take a sip of my water. "What did you guys do?" Aspen continues. I almost choke on the water.  
"We didn't do anything. I had to carry her to the room because she was feeling ill and then I helped her set up the bed and find new clothes. We both went to sleep after that," I tell him, not leaving the obvious disgust at his question out of my voice.  
Aspen laughs. "I understand you not telling Johan but it's me," he persists. I curl my hand into a fist.  
"We didn't do-"  
I'm cut off by the door opening. America steps into the room, her hair pulled back by a mustard yellow ribbon that matches the dress she's wearing. She looks particularly girly today. I try not to gape as she walks and sits down in her seat. She can't be seriously at lunch after that. Her injuries are new and she's ill. She passed out!  
"Hello," America says, greeting a few men with a hand lightly on their shoulder. They seem surprised by the touch and I realize I'm not the only one who's noticed America's physical absence.  
"America," the king says, astonished as all of us. I feel my fingernails digging into flesh as he plants as kiss on her cheek. I want to push him away from her. She catches my eye and lightly shakes her head before reaching up and tugging her ear.  
I sigh and pull an apple from the basket, shoving it into my mouth before I scream. If she's here does that mean she will still be going to Carolina before the visit from the embassy's.  
I pile more food onto my plate, ignoring my questions for now.

I wait until everyone leaves and America does the same. Sebastian asks me, rather rudely, if I'll be on Earth long enough to help them with the assignment. I tell him yes even though I really don't know the answer myself.  
The last person to leave is Aspen. I quickly tell him I need a walk around to clear my head before he scurries off.  
America calmly finished her mango before looking up at me. She wipes her hands clean on the napkins.  
"Do you want to see the roof?" she asks. I can't help but smile at the innocent way she asks the question.  
"Sure," I reply. With that she stands up, brushing her skirt down, and leads me out of the room and up to the roof.

The view from the roof is spectacular. I can see everything for miles. I give myself a moment to take in the view before turning to America, a million questions on my tongue.  
"What are you-" My question is cut off by her lips colliding with mine.  
I take to long to push away. "America-"  
She stops me again, bringing her hand to touch my face before leaning in again. I try to pull away again but she doesn't let go of my face. I give up and fall into the kiss, moving my hands to her waist and holding it lightly. She sighs against my lips.  
"I'm leaving today," she whispers against my lips.  
I pull back violently, keeping my hands on her waist.  
"What?" I demand, my eyes widening. She steps out of the embrace, turning around and wrapping her arms around her abdomen. I follow as she walks towards the edge of the roof.  
"I have to," she explains. "He's everywhere I go and I made a promise. If I don't go now I never will." I sigh, preparing my argument. She turns and grabs hold of my arms, lightly but enough to tell me to shut up.  
"I have to," she whispers, standing slightly on her toes, hands touching my forearms. I sigh and pulls her to my chest.  
It's starts to rain over us, soaking both of us in seconds. She doesn't move so I stay still as well.  
"I love you," I tell her, immediately realizing what I said afterwards. I pull back to see her face. Her lips are slightly parted and her makeup has begun running. Mascara runs down her cheeks but she looks as beautiful as ever. "I love you," I repeat, this time with more emotion. I lift her off the ground, making her laugh uncontrollably. "I love the princess of Illea."  
I put her down, making her laughter stop. She stares at me with her piercing blue eyes before reaching up and kissing me again. I kiss back with passion and my hands move to her hair, untying the ribbon so it falls down her back in a cascade of curls.  
She explores my face with her fingertips.  
I pull away and rest my forehead against hers.  
"I love you," I whisper to her again. She shakes her head and closes her eyes.  
"I'm really going to miss you these next few days." 

**Hiya! I have updated. I am amazing I know. Sorry it's kind of short and absolutely terribly written. I am tired and I have to get up early tomorrow but I stayed up for you guys. Hope you guys liked the chapter.  
Please comment because I love that.  
Bye guys (I'm going straight over to my bed so I can sleep now so bye bye)**


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

I get off the plane, letting my body breathe in the cool winds of Carolina. _Carolina.  
_ I let the corners of my mouth turn upwards, staring at the bright world that lies ahead of me. Away from the walls and the guards. Well most of the guards.  
I start to walk down the steps of the plane, grateful that my body is moving. The guards on either side of my hold both of my arms loosely as I take a rather large step down. I want to push them away and insist I don't need their help but I leave them. They're only doing their job.  
I am guided through the airport to a sleek black car with tinted windows. I roll my eyes when the doors are opened for me but step into the vehicle, lifting one leg in after the other.  
"Where are we going?" I ask one of my guards curiously. He looks down at me, his brown eyes as hard as stone.  
"Straight to this Singer house," he replies to my surprise. I raise my eyebrows. "Your father wants you home as soon as possible so you aren't leaving the suitors behind for too long," he elaborates. My hands curl into fists and I let out a sigh, resting the side of my head against the window. A part of me wishes Maxon was here to hold my hand as we drove to keep my mind away from my father and his possessiveness.  
I can feel my hands start to shake and I curse silently at myself. He can't hurt you here.  
I close my eyes, giving up on reassuring myself. He follows me everywhere. The presence he forced upon me constantly upon me wherever I go.

When I wake we are somewhere new. Somewhere I've never seen before.  
We've pulled up outside a small house, barely big enough for a family of four. I step out of the car, behind one of the guards, and shut the door quietly behind me. Though it is small, the house resembles what I would imagine a home to be. It looks like a place where children grow up, where they come home for at Christmas time. My heart clenches at the thought of a small family Christmas rather than the extravagant ones I've experienced.  
"Come on, Princess," the taller of the two guards prompts. His voice is patient and calm. I don't know what's come over me, why I'm so sentimental. I force myself out of it and quickly take the few steps towards the door.  
I'm about to knock when the shorter guard grabs my hand and knocks instead. Huh, guess princesses are completely unable to knock now as well.  
I hear frantic voices behind the door, people rummaging around the house, before the the door squeals against the hinges and opens slowly.  
A round, red haired woman opens the door, a look of surprise etched in her lined features. She looks around frantically, her mouth popping open in shock before lowering herself into a clumsy curtsy.  
"Your Highness," she greets, not lifting her gaze to mine. I tilt my head and try to give her my most winning smile.  
"Hello," I say, my tone full of formality. "I'm here to see a May Singer."

The woman ushers us into the house, fussing about dirty clothes hanging over furniture and dust clinging to the corners. I assure her it's fine as I marvel over the family home. It looks lived in with the stains covering the walls and the children's paintings tacked on to any available surface. I stop to look at one with five children on it. All of them labelled with names except for the third biggest. It is marked with a question mark. I furrow my brow at it.  
"May just got home from school," the woman explains. She knocks on a few doors, an obvious summoning, before turning to face us again. Lucy had come with the job to bring the strawberry tarts safely to the house. I smiled at her and summoned her closer.  
"I hope we aren't bothering you," I say to the woman.  
"Oh, no," the woman stutters. "May will probably die when she sees you here."  
"Magda," a hoarse cry travels from underneath.  
"What?" the woman calls back.  
"I need help cleaning my equipment," comes the reply. The woman- Magda- huffs before tapping her foot on the floorboards a few times.  
"I think that can wait until after you come up here," she calls down. I pinch my lips together to keep from laughing. I can only guess that the man underneath the house is her husband.  
While we wait for the family to come to the living room, I try to remember everything Aspen told me about the family. They are a family of very generous Fives who work harder than anyone he's ever known. He said that the mother had another daughter who was given away for surrogacy though she doesn't speak about it a lot.  
A small boy runs into the room, his face streaked with mud and his clothes caked with dirt. Magda grimaces at the boy's appearance, looking up at us bashfully.  
"Sorry about Gerad," she apologizes. I let out a giggle at the boy's face when she says that. He looks up and meets my eyes. He creases his eyebrows before looking down at my blue dress and the light makeup on my face. His mother attempts to bat the dirt off his clothes while he observes me.  
"May, what are you wearing?" he asks me. I look at him in confusion then kneel down to his level. Instead of outright correcting the little boy on his mistake, I hold my hand out.  
"I'm America," I tell him. "And you are Gerad, yes?" He nods numbly. Magda looks up at me while I introduce myself. Her eyes water slightly and I wonder why she's gotten so emotional. I'm about to ask her why when two people burst up the stairs.  
"Mom," a high pitched, girl's voice moans. "I'll never finish the sculpture with you nagging me all the time." The male voice from before chuckles as the two figures enter the room.  
My eyes immediately go to the girl and I stare at her in shock. It's like looking in a mirror. Her hair is the exact same shade as my own and our eyes share the same icy blueness. For a second I am speechless.  
"Your-your-your." A squeal escapes the girls lips, her eyes watering at the sight. I laugh at her enthusiasm before moving my eyes to the older man. He stares in confusion and delight. He pats the girl's shoulder, obviously attempting to bring her back from whatever euphoria she's slipped into.  
"I'm America," I introduce myself. She squeals silently and jumps up twice. Her father rolls his eyes and moves forward, his hand extended.  
"Shalom Singer," he says, his voice sounding like any dad's should. I take his hand enthusiastically and give it a big shake.  
"It's lovely to meet you," I say. His smile reminds me of the smile I wish I could see in my own father. A warm, heartfelt smile that could light up the night sky.  
Magda attempts to calm May down while I struggle to find words. What am I supposed to say to this family? I practically just barged in without any warning.  
I clear my throat to attempt to get their attention. They all look at me with an emotion I can't place gleaming in their eyes.  
"A young man that is a suitor in my Selection told me of a family he lived by," I start, my voice nervous.  
"Ah," Shalom exclaims, placing a hand on his chin. "Must be Aspen." I smile and nod.  
"We were eating strawberry tarts for breakfast one morning when he told me that May here would cry if she tasted them." May gasps but folds her arms. I look around at the rest of the family, trying to read their expressions. "So we decided that we would test this theory for ourselves. May screams with joy and clings to her father's arm.  
I motion for the tart carriers to move forward with the crates.  
"We've brought more than enough for everyone to have a taste and even more for later," I tell them. They look at the tart crates hungrily and it dawns upon me how hungry they might be. I swallow the lump forming in my throat so I can continue. The guards with the tarts pull away the lids, revealing the delicate tarts. "Dig in." They stare in shock for a number of seconds before realizing what is right in front of them. May steps up first, grabbing one gently in her hands. Her eyes already start to tear up and I think the bet is already done for but them she takes a bite.  
I look over at the tall thin man who is observing her. He's already got his pen and paper in his hand and is jotting down exactly what is happening.  
When May tastes the tart I can only explain her expression as pure joy. Her eyebrows leap for the skies and her eyes shut in pure bliss.  
No tears escape her eyes though they are filled with water and her face goes a brilliant red colour.  
Seeing May take first action, the rest of the family leaps forward and grab their own tarts. Different 'mmmm's and 'ahhhhh's fill the room as they all taste the tarts. May goes for a second one but Magda slaps her hand away and tells her to wait until tomorrow. Her face falls but she accepts the instruction.  
I feel a pang of guilt. They're Fives. They aren't wealthy or even middle-class. There are probably nights that the dinner table is empty. When everyone sits around with nothing on their plates.  
I always take these things for granted.  
"I will send some more tarts over," I tell them, a surprise confidence jumping into my voice. "And some other things. We have too much over there anyway." They are all silent for several moments before the protests begin. Magda explains that they have more than enough for their family of three and that others are worse off. Shalom says that they really don't need to eat much and they all get full too quickly. May and Gerad protest the decision with long faces. I smile weakly at the family.  
"Please," I say, barely audible, "I insist." They all sigh and stop their turns to Gera and they talk about how yummy the tarts were whilst Magda and Shalom exchange a grim look.  
After a minute Magda turns to me with a motherly smile on her face.  
"Stay here tonight," she offers. "It would be great for you to tell these two bugalugs about princess life." She musses Gerad and May's hair. "You know May has always wanted to be a princess."  
All at once the guards step forward.  
"Your Highness the hotel is much safer and more guarded," one of them says.  
"Your father would never approve," another one protests. I groan at the mention of my father and my hands shake without promting.  
"Don't tell him," I reply, turning to them all. "You probably have families you were hoping to see here. Girlfriends, sisters, brothers, cousins. That's why you all _chose_ to come." They all mutter but don't deny it. "Please take this night off," I beg them. "I won't get hurt in one night. Just make sure you're all back and sober tomorrow morning when we go home." Smiles and whispers of thanks travel around the crowd of guards before they disperse for their loved ones. I turn back to the Singer's.  
"So, what now?"

The rest of the night is spent telling stories in the living room and everyone stuffing themselves on strawberry tarts. Dinner is a serving of chicken soup, something I've barely ever eaten except for when I have a cold. Then board games and truth or dare is played until Magda and Shalom announce bedtime. I follow May to her room and sleep on the bed she tells me is her older sister Kenna's.  
"She's moved out now," she tells me. I close my eyes and think about the crazy day. It's the first time I've ever felt I belonged in a family. Sure Mom is as caring as she can be but she's always been a step or two away, never wanting to get close. And Father is nothing like Shalom who jokes and tickles.  
I sigh and turn over on the bed. I wonder if this is how Maxon grew up. Never enough food but a family with enough spirit that the hunger in their stomachs is forgotten for a few hours.  
I check to make sure May is asleep before slipping out of Kenna's bed and padding my way out of the room. I stand outside the door for a few moments before hearing voices.  
"I vowed to never say a word of it to anyone the day she was born." Magda.  
"Who cares? I know the Leger's know that you had a surrogacy. And what's the problem with knowing who her birth parents are? Maybe it will give her peace." Shalom. A chair scrapes against the wood flooring. Sobbing begins.  
"I didn't want to do it," Magda sobs. "I had to. We were running low and we couldn't feed Kenna and Kota." She lets out another loud sob. I wonder if it will wake Gerad and May. I inch forward hoping that there aren't any creaky floorboards. It feels like an intrusion on their privacy but I can't seem to stop listening.  
Shalom begins to make soothing sounds.  
"Okay, okay, we won't tell her," he assures Magda. I hear another raging sob before they become quieter and the conversation stopped.  
I inch my way back to May's room and slide back into the bed. I wonder what she was so upset about. I know that Magda surrogated a child. Maybe seeing me made her remember her own child that she lost. I bite my lips and close my eyes. I have to stop worrying about these strangers. They shouldn't mean anything to me.  
I fall asleep imagining Magda's red haired baby that doesn't know how lucky they would have been to grow up in this family.

 **Hello strangers!  
Did you like this very much longer chapter. I wrote the start of this a few weeks ago and I decided tonight that I was going to finish it before I went away camping for a week. I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I decided to just write America's POV because I felt that this chapter needed to be just America finding herself in the Singer's. I really hope you guys liked this chapter because I had so much joy writing it. **


	20. Chapter 20

**Dun dun dun….NEW CHAPTER. Yay. Hope you're all getting excited. Thanks for all of the great comments on the last chapter, really motivating. You guys are awesome and really keep the story going! So every time a new chapter comes out, pat yourselves on the back. I may be the one writing the words but you guys are the whole reason I do it. It sounds a bit sentimental considering I only wrote a new chapter and didn't win human being of the year but oh well.**

 **Chapter 20 (!)**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

The goodbyes the next day are surprisingly tearful and full of energy. May cries with a fantastic grin on her face beside her father who smiles proudly as the guards show up to escort me home. Gerad buzzes with energy left from the strawberry tarts yesterday and Magda just stares with a affectionate smile plastered on her face.  
I've only known them for a while but I feel a sense of belonging in this house with these people. I feel like there's been a place waiting for me and I just came and took it. I wonder if the Singers feel the same way.  
I shake my head and smile at them all before turning towards the open car door and slide inside. I instruct the guards to close the doors and sit patiently waiting for the car to start and for us to drive back. Drive back to the airport so we can catch a plane home.  
Home.  
Why does that sound like a lie now? 

I slept the whole journey home, excluding when we got out of the car and the crowds appeared. I take my time saying hello to the public and taking photos. People tell me stories and comment on my Selection which is the last thing I want to hear about but I smile and nod. Reporters ask intruding questions that I don't answer. They ask about the foreign visitors that should be arriving the day after I return home myself. I give a short brief answer and turn to a small redheaded girl.  
"Princess! Princess!" she calls. I move towards her and smile with my most winning smile.  
I take hold of her small hand and listen to her intently as she tells me of her family and how they've been so grateful that her brother was brought home from his three-year service. I furrow my brow, wondering why he was sent home. Men in service are rarely sent home and if they are it's because of injuries or other things preventing service.  
"What happened to your brother?" I ask trying to make the question seem casual.  
"He was shot in the spine and now he's paralyzed but don't you worry. His spirit is still the same." I feel sick as she grins up at me. How many men go home without limbs, promised never to walk again?  
I squeeze her hand softly before moving through the rest of the crowd. It's a blur of faces and flashes. Questions and stories.  
All I can think about is that girl and her brother.

I arrive home sometime during the night greeted with a few of the maids taking my bags out of my hands. My mother and father are nowhere to be seen nor are any of the suitors. I don't know what I expected. Everyone would be asleep, preparing themselves for tomorrow. I sigh and tell the maids to take my bags up to my room. Questions about my trip are asked and answered vaguely. For some reason coming back has given me more nerves than leaving had.  
I wander out into the garden, needing to clear my thoughts. Why does it feel so foreign to come back here? _This_ is my home. Not the Singer's house.  
I am home.

 **MAXON'S POV**

I can't sleep. America will be returning tonight. It was weird not having her near. Meals were had without her sitting beside me and days were spent with the absence of her laughter.  
I roll over and off the bed, my feet sliding onto the cool floor. I'm fully aware that my shirt is off and the scars on my back are completely visible but I don't expect any visitors. I pick up my camera. It feels at home in my hand. With the camera in my hand I make my way onto the balcony.  
I take a few photos of the sky and gardens that my balcony overlooks. They're beautiful but remind me of the next two days. My group decided to host our party in the gardens. It was Aspen's idea to host them there. I had to admit it was a good idea. It's not exactly Summer but it's enough past Winter that a party outside would be enjoyable.  
All the planning from the past couple of days has taken it's toll on everyone. The guys in the German Federation group have been grouchy throughout all meals and my own group has obtained a shorter temper. Johnny has been complaining throughout the whole process, protesting that he wasn't 'gay' enough to plan a party. Most of the group has ghosted him since then, giving him tasks that he can do independently so none of us have to put up with him.  
I look around the gardens, looking for my next capture when I spot a moving figure.  
It's America.  
She's wearing a simple pink dress that wraps loosely around her slim body. Her hair has been let loose with two braids pulling her curls away from her face. She glides gracefully through the gardens, her hands held in front of her. Her face is hidden from my view by the night.  
I feel an ache in my chest. She looks so peaceful and serene walking through the gardens. Like a goddess at home with the flowers and shrubbery. I want to talk to her.  
Before calling for her attention I take a quick photo of her. The click of the lens makes her more alert but she doesn't look up. I want to laugh. She looks so lost.  
"Psst," I hiss down at her, hoping she can hear. Her head whips upwards and her piercing blue eyes meet mine. She smiles and gives a little wave that I return. She opens her mouth to say something but stops herself. I give her a confused look before pulling my camera back up and taking another photo. She crosses her arms above her chest, giving me a disapproving look. I shrug before bringing my hand up to my ear and tugging it gently. She repeats the action and sticks up a finger. I feel like we're playing some sort of miming game. I laugh. She shakes her head, clearing any though and then runs in the direction of the doors. I shake my head and move back into my room.  
She takes at least five minutes to get up to my room. When she does she knocks lightly.  
"Come in," I call even though I know it is her. The door opens and America appears in the frame, wearing the same clothes but with a camera held loosely in her hands. I frown at her before she lifts it and takes a photo. I shake my head before standing and moving towards her. She looks up innocently and closes the door with her foot. I gather her into my arms and hug her. She smells like roses and everything beautiful in the world.  
"I've missed you," I say against her hair. I pull back slightly and touch the two small braids. "These are nice." She smiles and touches them herself.  
"Mrs. Singer did them," she informs me. She pulls her arms away from around my waist and goes to sit on the bed. I put my own camera down and sit down beside her.  
"How was it?" I ask. She smiles down at her hands. It's a genuinely happy smile.  
"It was amazing," she breathes. " _They_ were amazing." She laughs.  
"That's great," I say, throwing my arm over her shoulders. It's a casual gesture and she only freezes slightly. "Did she cry?" America laughs again. Her laugh is music to my ears.  
"Nope." I laugh along with her. She rests her head on my shoulder and stops laughing, her mood turning sombre.  
"I didn't want to come back," she admits. I feel like someone punched me in he gut but I keep my face calm. Did she not miss me as much as I did her? "It felt so right being there. Almost as right as it feels being with you." She gasps, surprised she admitted that much.  
I smile down at her. Her eyes have watered. I brush away a stray tear.  
"Did I tell you I have missed you _so_ much?" I ask. She laughs and puts a hand on my cheek. She brings my face to hers, our lips meeting in a perfect reunion. I smile against her mouth as the kiss deepens. Her dress only falls to her knees and bunches as the kiss deepens. She pulls away for a second so she can push me down on the bed. She climbs over me, kissing my collar bone. I run a hand through her hair, being careful of the braids that seem to give her happiness. Her dress rides up to the top of her thighs and I run my hands over them, leaving goosebumps over her flesh. She shivers but doesn't stop. I know we have to stop before it gets too far or her father will probably have my head. It's not like her really cares about her. She runs her hands down my chest. They travel down abdomen. I know where she thinks this is going. I put my hands over hers before she can go any further. She doesn't seem to mind. She presses herself onto my and I have to try my hardest not to let go of her hands so she can continue with her previously thought out plan.  
She doesn't stop and it dawns on me that I have to stop this before _I_ let her go too far.  
I pull back gently and push her off me. She rolls over so she's lying beside me instead of right on top of me. I look over at her. Her curls, once tamed, are now all over the place and her lips are swollen. I sincerely hope that no one passes her when she leaves. Her dress is still bunched mid-thigh. I laugh.  
"What are you laughing at?" she asks, pulling her dress back down to her knees and sitting up. She looks over me and smiles.  
"Oh I've missed you," I say for the third time. She shakes her head and slaps my shoulder playfully.  
"You've said that," she chuckles. "I've missed you too." I sigh and sit up.  
We just talk after that. About Carolina, about the foreign visitors, about the other contestants. After an hour I tell her she should head to bed. She complains but leaves. She promises to see me tomorrow at the party. It's not the one we organized but it's sure to be fun. She'll have to play the perfect princess for two whole days, unable to drop the mask.  
I fall asleep thinking of America wearing a long dress and her tiara, playing hostess for people she barely knows. 

**How did you guys like the chapter. It's shorter than the last but right now I'm sitting in a tent so I can't really write for ages. I hope you guys had a great New Years and that you are all keeping to your resolutions. Mine are surrounded around being more organized. I hope it works out because I consider myself the least organized person ever.  
Have an awesome day guys!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry, I guess, for not updating. My life has been so crazy since I've gone back to school. I resigned from my job and have started at a new place which means I'm working at two different places as well as juggling my school workload that is crazy this year. It's just so crazy!  
But I have been trying to get this chapter finished. I've been trying to finish it for a few weeks but I never got far enough. It's honestly not the best and you'll see that in the chapter but it's a filler for the more important things. And a few little character things were revealed.  
I am so grateful for your guys support and I'm really glad you are liking this fanfic and I just hope you guys know that I am constantly trying my best. As I said a lot has been going on, I've been sick and I just can't juggle everything for my own mental health. Hopefully I'll get a new chapter out in two weeks. I'm not promising next week because I have a few exams and drafts due all over the place and I have work but hopefully you guys will have a new chapter in two weeks.  
Please be patient with me.  
Now enough babbling and on with the chapter!**

 **AMERICA'S POV**

The next morning is chaos. Silvia can be seen running around, making last minute adjustments with the poor boys trailing after her. I feel kind of sorry for them but the feeling passes once I return to my bedroom to be fixed up for the big day ahead.  
Lucy is standing in the middle of the room with Linette holding a big purple dress adorned with frills and ribbons. I cringe without meaning to.  
"Please tell me that is a bed sheet not my dress," I tell them. Lucy giggles but Linette's face is as still as a stone. I sigh and walk forward touching the silky material. I can't help but wonder why the boys felt the need to pick out my dress as well.  
"It looks like a curtain," I groan. Linette pulls the material back and places it gently on the bed.  
"You should see what else your lovely suitors have brought you," she says, mischief lacing her voice as she disappears in the bathroom. She emerges holding something that wildly resembles a hairy, orange rat. I gasp before running forward and taking it from her hand.  
"No," I gasp, my horror mixed in with laughter. "I'm not wearing it." Lucy and Linette laugh, both clutching their chests and tilting their heads back.  
"We'll see," Linette promises once the laughter has ceased.

I feel like a circus tent. Like a really purple circus tent.  
The dress hangs loose on my body and a corset hugs my waist like an old aunt who doesn't know the difference between a hug and suffocating someone. The frills and bows don't look as bad when it's on but no as bad is still awful. Luckily, Lucy and Linette forewent the weave and instead let my hair fall in ringlets over my shoulders.  
"I look like I need to start breaking glasses with my voice," I admit, starting a round of laughter. "I don't even think I'm joking."  
They have to help me down the stairs, holding my elbows so I don't tip over or break the metal supports inside the dress.  
"Wish me luck," I say at the bottom of the stairs. They pat me on my back and depart, back up the stairs to complete their other duties.  
I walk cautiously into the Great Room where the festivities are being held. My feet are aching in these shoes but I don't let the pain show on my face.  
The room is filled with the boys and our guests from the German Federation.  
I search the room for my mother and father, finding them deep in conversation with a skinny man sporting a twirling grey moustache. My mother holds my father's arm and giggles at something the other man said. I turn away with a smile and look around for another familiar face.  
"Princess! Princess!" a nasally voice with a thick accent calls. I whip my head around so fast I almost fall over. A shorter girl stands behind me wearing a icy blue dress to match her wide blue eyes. She smiles up at me with her bright white teeth.  
"Hi," I greet cautiously. Her smile doesn't falter even when her English does.  
"I am great fan of you. My mother very happy we are invited to see you," she tells me. I raise my eyebrows.  
"That's very nice. What's your name?" I ask. It doesn't seem possible but her smile grows.  
"Jaya," she replies. She seems giddy with excitement.  
"JAYA!" a distant call sounds. Jaya steps on her toes to look over my shoulder before ducking again.  
"I go now," she says before rushing off. I giggle as I turn around. A tall woman that can only be her mother scolds her, wagging her finger. I pray that she doesn't get into too much trouble as I start to move into the crowd.  
The colours chosen match my dress and the music is boring and seems to drone on. I talk with a few old politicians as I make my way through, attempting to discuss armies and Illea's policies. Most of them seem stuck up and snobby making me resent most of them. There are a few familiar faces but it's been too long since I've seen them to remember who they exactly are.  
"America?" a very familiar voice asks. I spin around again making the mistake of almost falling on my feet.  
"Maxon! Hey!" He touches my elbow to steady me. His eyes are alight with laughter.  
"Your welcome," he says before I can thank him. I giggle. "So nice party?"  
"If you can forget the mountain of a dress and the politicians who seem to be multiply, you could call it fun." He chuckles and gently brushes his hand against mine.  
"The dress isn't that bad." I give him a look. "Okay it's bad but you still look beautiful," he admits sympathetically.  
"Dance with me?" I ask him, smiling genuinely for the first time today. He takes my hand in his and pulls me towards the area allocated for dancing. I place my hand on Maxon's chest as we sway with the music. His grip around my waist is strangely comforting rather than frightening.  
"What would you rate them?" he asks after a minute of strict dancing. I giggle and pat his chest lightly.  
"You know I can't tell you." He sighs before tugging on his ear. I give him a look of confusion.  
"I am your friend, maybe I have a _friendly_ opinion on how you should rate this event's organization." He raises an eyebrow. I slap him harder and chuckle.  
"You will not tell me anything that can possibly change my very clear judgement of this team's work." He groans and pulls me in so little that no one watching would notice.  
"I still think my group's will be better," he tells me matter of factly.  
"Well I guess we'll just have to see. You could still get kicked out." We share a look. That won't happen even if his group loses.  
"I think I'm in love with you, America."

 **MAXON'S POV**

I make my way over to the drinks and silently curse at myself. How could I just blurt that out? Telling someone you love them for the first time should be private, not out in the open where anyone can hear.  
"Hey, buddy," a voice slurs in my ear. Aspen throws his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in tight, slightly wobbly on his feet. I eye the brown liquid in his glass before pulling his arm off and pushing him an inch away. "This is great isn't it!" The alcohol has effected his fluency in English and it's a miracle I could make out his sentence.  
"Do you really think it's a good idea to be drinking this early, Aspen?" I ask, eying the drink again. He waves away my question with his hand, spilling some of his drink on the tiled flooring. I feel embarrassed to be standing here with him but I know I have some sort of obligation to make sure he doesn't pass out and choke on his own vomit.  
"Come on," I prompt. "Let's get you some water." I tug on his arm but he doesn't budge. This is going to take a while. I only hope that the international guests haven't noticed my friends state of drunkenness.  
"Have you seen America?" he slurs. I shrug and tug his arm with a bit more force.  
"I've barely seen her in ages. And she went away…" He trails off and takes another swig of his drink. "I love her so much." I roll my eyes and try to ignore the growing jealousy as I tug his arm for the third time. He needs to move soon before he throws up on someone's million dollar dress.  
"Aspen," I hiss attempting to get his attention. It's an impossible task I realize as he starts talking to a young German lady. I apologize urgently in German before tugging him out of view, using all of my strength.  
"Aspen you need to have a glass of water and get a grip," I tell him. "America doesn't want you to ruin this event and if you really do love her like you say you do, you wouldn't want her to be unhappy." He rolls his eyes and pushes me away.  
"I want her to love me back. Like she loves you," he replies, tears glistening in his wide eyes. I stiffen but don't say anything. America doesn't love me but I can't very well tell Aspen without revealing her past.  
"And you love her but I want her," Aspen hisses. His letter all slur together making him sound crazy but I keep alert as I listen. "I'm going to win. We're great friends and all but I need to win." Those are the last words Aspen says before he passes out behind the table.


	22. Chapter 22

**Miss me? Yeah I did too.  
I've been in such a life slump recently. I haven't been reading or writing and it's driving me crazy. I guess school just isn't letting me do anything else these days.  
I received a comment on a chapter (I'm not sure which one) today and it made me want to finish this chapter that has been sitting here for months. CartoonNerd12 thank you so very much. I probably would never write this chapter if it wasn't for you. So thank you. I really enjoyed the comments about every part of the story. They just made me so happy. I hope you all know that every comment you write fills me with joy. So thank you guys so much and please keep talking to me in the comments. Keep me motivated to write more and more of this story!**

 **Chapter 22**

AMERICA'S POV

The dress for the second day is much more comfortable than the first. I feel much less restricted walking down the stairs in this lavender dress that hits the middle of my calf.  
It's still early in the morning and this group, like the group from yesterday, is running around, making last minute touch ups. I spot Maxon walking quickly to keep up with Silvia who is almost running in her heels. He's waving his arms slightly to describe something. Aspen is tying some banner up close by. I make my way towards him.  
"Aspen."  
Taken by surprise, Aspen hits his head on the board he's tying the banner on. "Shoot." He curses loudly and rubs at his forehead. He looks tired, dark circles showing faintly under his eyes.  
"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching a hand up to touch his leg. He's up so high I feel like he's going to topple off he ladder.  
"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine." He steps down slightly on the ladder, stretching to hold the banner up. I giggle slightly and finger my braid, another decision I was very happy with when Lucy styled it this morning. "Can you pass that up," Aspen requested, pointing half-heartedly at the tape lying on the ground. "I must've dropped it." My fingers graze the damp grass as I pick it up.  
"Here." I pass the tape up, our hands touching for a second. Aspen looks down at my hand longingly before ripping his up and taping the banner.  
"This set-up is really good," I tell him, trying to start up a conversation. He doesn't look down at me. I bite my lip. "You group must've really thought this out," I continue, trying to prompt some words out of him. Usually Aspen's really talkative.  
"Yeah," he replies, a sarcastic tone in his voice. "Maxon's was great at directing it all. Even with the attack." He pats the banner onto the post and jumps down from the ladder. I step back but keep my hands alert in case he falls on his face. He grumbles while he regains his balance.  
"I have a lot to do before the Italians come," he tells me, looking down at his feet. I nod and hold my hands together.  
"Yeah, of course. See you later." I give him a small wave. He walks away roughly, almost staggering. I cross my arms over my chest. Why is he so grumpy? Did I do something?  
I make a move in the opposite direction. Maybe he's hung over or couldn't sleep last night.  
I walk amongst the gardens, admiring the flowers and the set up. I have to give the group a clap on the back. They'd set it up perfectly. How can the Italians say no to an alliance here?  
I long to take off my heels, the only thing uncomfortable about the whole outfit. I take a seat on the bench, the bench where I met Maxon, and let the shoes slide slightly off my feet. It's not enough that someone might see my bare feet but enough that I let out a sigh of relief when they slide off.  
"Uncomfortable shoes?" Maxon asks as he slides in the seat beside me. I look up at him and slide the shoes on my feet self-consciously. He looks professional holding a black clipboard and wearing his grey suit.  
"I thought no one could notice," I whine. He laughs, music filling my ears. I laugh along with him, leaning towards him ever so slightly.  
"Wait-" He puts a serious face on "-I'm supposed to be checking things off. That was the deal I made with Silvia so I could sit down instead of actually working." He begins staring intently at the clipboard and checking things off. I glance over at the board. It has a list accompanied by little check boxes. I smile at some of the items.  
"Lavender dress, white shawl?" I question. They had to check my outfit.  
"Ah, check, check," Maxon said, lightly checking the boxes I had pointed out. The shawl was hanging on my arm. It's not the right weather for a shawl. "I picked out the outfit," he told me, gesturing to my dress. "Not the shoes, though. Some other idiot decided to choose the stupidest shoes on earth." I chuckle and point to the shoes.  
"These are like walking on clouds compared to yesterday's shoes." He reaches down a, bending over the clipboard, and slides the shoes off. I can't help the groan that escapes my mouth when they slide off.  
"Is it an unspoken rule that princesses must wear the most uncomfortable shoes on earth?" he jokes. I touch my feet softly, stroking the spot where the shoe was tightest.  
"Definitely. Lucky you won't ever have to wear a princess' shoes," I reply. He continues to check off the items on the list, his hair falling slightly over his forehead. I want to kiss him right here, right now but I know better. The news would go wild. I had to think of the other guys as well. Give them a fighting chance.  
Thinking of the other guys. I thought of Aspen and his grumpy mood this morning. "What's up with Aspen today?" I ask Maxon, trying to sound like I don't really care that much. Maxon stiffens beside me slightly and keeps his eyes on the clipboard. I wonder what he's thinking.  
"He's probably hung over," he says, not looking up. I furrow my brows. Maxon was so talkative a second ago. What's going on with Aspen and why does Maxon look like he doesn't want to talk about it? "He had a lot to drink yesterday, I don't know how they didn't notice but he was completely smashed," he continues.  
I bite down hard on my lip. "That's odd. I never imagined Aspen to be a big drinker."  
Maxon checked another box on the list. "He's isn't. I don't know what got into him. Probably too many Germans saying vodka," he joked. He gave a lifeless chuckle.  
"Vodka's Russian," I inform him with a smirk. His lips curl into a smile before he pushes himself off the bench.  
"It shouldn't be too long before the Italians get here." He dusts off his pants and tucks the clipboard in between his arm. "I should probably start _actually_ assisting with the big men chores." He flexes as a joke quickly before running off to help Twan lift a ladder out of the way. I give him a half-hearted thumbs up.  
I move back towards the area with the tables and chairs, watching the guys set up. Aspen is alone, organising the plastic flowers on the tables. Maybe he is just hung over like Maxon said.

MAXON'S POV

The Italians are loud and extremely cheerful. I gather that information within minutes of them being here. Children are running throughout the garden, taking out anyone in their path and laughter fills the air. I smile and introduce myself to a few of them, only stopping to chat for a few minutes at a time.  
I'm still thinking about Aspen. The things he said to me yesterday about loving America, being jealous of me. I wonder if _he_ remembers.  
Aspen sits with two young girls, laughing at what they're saying. I wonder what America was saying about his grumpiness.  
America is talking to the girl I recognise as the Italian princess, Nicoletta. America talks to her easily, laughing and moving her arms around as she tells a story. It's fascinating to watch.  
I'm too caught up in America that I barely register when two younger girls approach me.  
"Hello," a tall, golden skinned girl says in a heavy accented voice. The girl beside her stares with wide eyes.  
"Hi," I replied, scratching my neck. They stood side by side looking extremely similar. I quirked an eyebrow.  
"I'm Orbabella," one of them introduces before pointing to the other. "This is my sister Noemi." I nod and take their hands, kissing the backs of each.  
"It's nice to meet you both." I let go of Noemi's hand. She smiles shyly at me, looking down at her hand bashfully.  
"It's a lovely…oh what do you call it?" Orabella bites her lip as she thinks of the word. "Party! You plan party today?" I nod and tuck my hands in my pockets.  
"It was a team effort, all of us working together," I explain, trying to use gestures to help them understand. I was planning on learning some Italian, but I got distracted every time.  
"Very good," Noemi finally says, her thick accent brimming underneath her words. Her voice is smooth and lovely to listen to.  
I feel a hand brush my arm and look down to find America holding onto my bicep.  
"Hi," I whisper down at her. She smiles up at me and then at the sisters.  
"Orabella and Noemi, yes?" she says by way of greeting. She must have picked up their names from Nicoletta. I put a hand on the small of her back, rubbing circles with two of my fingers.  
"America!" Orabella exclaims, wrapping her thin arms around America's tiny frame. America returns the hug easily with a tight-lipped smile.  
"We have been watching your Selection," Noemi pipes in. "Many men look nice." America chuckles at that. I poke her lightly in the back.  
"When you're done we have them, huh?" Orabella suggests playfully, wagging her eyebrows in my direction. I laugh loudly and pull America slightly closer to my side. She invites the touch gladly.  
I smile to myself as the girls keep talking. Every second America doesn't move away makes me feel like I'm getting closer to breaking away her shell.  
Every second she doesn't move away makes me love her even more.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hello guys. So I got a comment on the last chapter that was asking if this was the end and begging for there to be more. First off, thank you guys for loving this story so much. I know how frustrating it is to have to wait for more chapters to come so I'm really thankful that you guys keep reading this. Second thing: I do not know when this story will end. There is always a point when you get really fed up with a story and you just want to stop writing it all together. I've felt that multiple times with everything I write and it is so very frustrating. But with this story because I am actually publishing this and I have an actual audience, I want to keep writing for you guys. But honestly I have no idea what the future holds or how the story will end.**

 **To add to this, I want to dedicate this chapter to** **Enchanted20** **! This comment was completely unexpected considering I haven't updated in forever and it made my day. I was at work when I read it and I was having such a bad shift that while I was on my break I just cried. Now I usually don't cry much but there's been a lot of stuff happening at school, at work and at home so I just cried because some girls were being wenches. And anyways, I came out of the toilets, my break almost done, and quickly checked my phone. I was really surprised to see that I had a review. And honestly it made my day. I still had a pretty bad shift but it made it a bit better so THANK YOU.**

 **If you guys read all this beginning stuff, thank you as well. Anyways, it's kind of bad but it's also like 1:30 in the morning and I have school and work today so enjoy it as much as you can!**

 **Chapter 23**

AMERICA'S POV

"I can't believe they're all gone," I say to Marlee as she combs through my hair. She touches the ends lightly with her fingers.  
"Don't beat yourself up, America," she replies and she places the comb down and begins to braid. "They had to go eventually."  
I bite my lip and look down at my fingernails. The violet nail polish still coats the nails from the Italian visit. It's awfully chipped but for some reason I can't bear to part with it.  
"They were all here for a reason," I continue. "I didn't even know and I just sent them away. God I'm a terrible person."  
Marlee ties off the braid and moves to sit in front of me, placing her warm fingers on my knees. "You're not a bad person. You didn't choose this. The country chose this." I sigh and stand up, my burnt orange dress swaying around my legs. I sent the boys from the German Federation group away this morning. They were taken away in the cars back to the airport to their homes. Some cried and I felt tempted to tell them to stay but I knew I couldn't.  
I turn back to Marlee who has begun packing away the hair supplies, her own hair falling loosely out of her bun.  
"Have you met Officer Woodwork?" she asks, not looking up as red reaches into her cheeks. I furrow my brows at her before replying.  
"He was the one you danced with the night of the party, yes?" Marlee smiles broadly, continuing to pack away her things. The other maid, Lucy hasn't felt well for the past week and my old maid Linette was promoted to somewhere else in the palace so it's been up to Marlee to do everything for me.  
I move closer to my friend, studying her smile. It's the kind of smile one does unknowingly.  
"Do you like him?" I ask, excitement lacing my tone. She smirks and puts a finger to my lips.  
"Don't tell anyone," she begs. Her smile is wide but her eyes are serious. "It isn't proper to have a relationship whilst working. The rest of the maids would shun me." I nod and take her hands in mine.  
"I'm happy for you, Marlee." Her smile widens.  
"I think I love him," she whispers.

Aspen is waiting for me in the Great Room. After the elimination of the German Federation group, I sent word to him, scheduling a date. He was so cold the other day. Was it because of something I said? Did one of the other boys say something to him. Nonetheless, I am committed to learning his reasons.  
"Princess America," he greets with a grin. He takes my hand and kisses it lightly. I try to push down the cringe at his touch. Luckily, if I showed a reaction, he doesn't notice.  
"How are you Aspen?" I ask, leading him towards a sofa. He smiles lightly and gives me a confused look.  
"I'm great, how are you, Princess?" I smirk and fiddle with one of my bangles.  
"Well, the competition is going well, which is making me pleased, but I feel like something's off with you." I go straight for the confrontation, not bothering with the formalities.  
His face falls as he registers what I said. I smile reassuringly and continue. "It was just the other day you seemed almost upset about something. I just want to make sure everything is okay with you, that you're not having second thoughts about the competition." As I say this, I am briefly aware of the cameras filming everything we do. Aspen notices as well and glances at them with an uncomfortable expression.  
"I do apologize for my behaviour the other day. I was hungover and tired," he explains nervously. I try to remember how Maxon excused Aspen's behaviour. Did he explain it away the same way?  
"Are you sure nothing is bothering you?" I press. "There are cameras surrounding us but trust me, if there's something on your chest and you don't want the whole world to know, they _will_ cut it out." I throw a pointed glance at the camera men. Aspen sighs and throws up his hands.  
"I feel like I'm fighting for you, but you don't feel anything for me," he finally admits, his tone stressed. He sinks into the couch. "And I completely understand if you don't, and I respect it but if you could see it from my point of view, you would understand." He takes a deep breath.  
"Aspen," I sigh. Pushing away my fear, I gently place my hand over his. Despite the warm temperature of his hand, I shiver. "If I didn't feel _anything_ for you, you wouldn't be here." In truth, I loved Aspen's company. Sure, he's got a strong personality but it's fun to be around and he tries hard. And maybe I don't feel any attraction to him just yet, but that could easily change if the chance arises.  
He smiles at me, resembling a puppy that just found a stick. "That means a lot." I nod, starting to push myself off the chair. I look down at him once I'm standing.  
"Don't worry what the other boys say, either. You guys might think I don't notice but I can see how Johnny pushes you guys." I give him a small smile, walking towards the door.  
The one thing I never thought Aspen would do is surprise someone. That's why I don't expect it when he steps in front of my and grabs my face in his hands. I don't have a second to protest before he lowers his lips to mine.  
His lips are warm, much like the rest of him. And he's gentle, holding my face lightly in his two hands. It's so comforting that I almost forget what's happening. He pulls away after a second, leaving me in complete and utter shock.  
Without saying anything, I walk slowly out of the room, trying to process what just happened.  
Aspen just kissed me. It wasn't awful. I don't notice the shakes until I collapse onto my bed.  
The tears begin to stream down my face while I sob into the comforter.


End file.
